


Time and Wounds

by cupnsaucer



Category: Spartacus Series (TV), Spartacus: War of the Damned
Genre: M/M, Mostly historically accurate, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:40:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 38,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22655653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cupnsaucer/pseuds/cupnsaucer
Summary: After being routed on the banks of the Sele, Agron's small band of injured and aged rebels head east to escape the Romans.Agron struggles to accept his injuries and tries to deal with his limitations while the burden of leading what is left of the rebels weighs heavily.
Relationships: Agron/Nasir
Comments: 30
Kudos: 79





	1. Chapter 1

Nasir was dozing lightly on his side when Agron finally made it back to their small room. Previously home to only rats and empty amphorae, it now contained a small table, their only possessions stored beneath, and a large pallet of carpets and blankets touching three of the walls. Agron stood in the doorway, gazing at the other man. Nasir’s naked body was partially covered with a blanket in an appealing way that showed his bronzed skin but covered enough to make Agron itch to expose more. 

The pain in Agron’s hands and the desperate flight from the Romans had both abated, leaving room for the too long absent stirring in Agron’s groin. He stalked towards the bed and reached out a hand, thickly scabbed but still wrapped in soft linen bandages, and ran it up Nasir’s exposed leg. 

Nasir smiled, eyes still closed, “I wondered when duties would allow you to seek our bed.”

Agron bent to follow his hand with small, butterfly kisses and hmm-ed against the shorter man’s leg, pausing at his thigh to rub his rough beard like a cat against Nasir.

“They all saw I was distracted by thoughts of your thighs.”

Nasir’s eyes came open, alive with interest, “And my thighs have burned for you these past weeks.”

Agron looked up at Nasir, resting his head on his thigh.

“I know I have been,” Agron paused, searching for the right word. “distant of late.”

Nasir reached down and cupped Agron’s face, “We have both been occupied.”

Agron appreciated Nasir’s white lie. He had been driving himself hard, avoiding Nasir under the pretext of managing their small band of rebels and shepherding them to relative safety of Apulia. They were sheltered in an abandoned villa, recovering before a long sea journey to Thrace. After Pompey destroyed the vanguard on his way to combining forces with Crassus, the few groups who escaped were met with Agron’s small rearguard following in the wake of the rout.

The wounds on Agron’s hands had broken open during the last battle and were nearly useless for a week while they dodged sporadic Roman patrols. The pain had only recently subsided enough to allow Agron to mostly close his fingers again, not enough to allow him to hold anything of substance but enough to allow for him to run his hand under the blanket and up Nasir’s chest as he was doing now. 

“I have been unfair to you.” Agron’s fingers danced across Nasir’s collarbone. “I have been neglectful.”

Nasir shivered and his nipples hardened as Agron’s fingers circled them. 

“I have not given you all you deserve.” Agron kissed his way up Nasir’s side, open mouthed kisses this time, setting Nasir’s skin on fire in his wake. 

“I intend to atone.” Agron reached Nasir’s lips and kissed him deeply.

Nasir rolled on to his back so that Agron had better access. Agron pressed himself fully against his lover, blanket protecting Nasir’s skin from the cold bite of his armour. Nasir’s scent was intoxicating and Agron broke off their kiss to bury his face in the crook of Nasir’s neck, inhaling deeply before sinking his teeth into his pulse point. Nasir cried out and Agron laved the bite with his tongue, taking the slight sting away.

“There is no need to atone,” Nasir panted as Agron kissed his way along the shorter man’s jaw line. “I feel only blessed with the warmth of your attentions now.” 

“I do not deserve you.” Agron whispered reverentially against the corner of Nasir’s mouth.

“Stand, I would have you bare before me.” Nasir smiled, turning his head to capture Agron’s lips.

Agron carefully put pressure on the heels of his palms to leverage himself up. Nasir followed, turning his full attention to unbuckling Agron’s breastplate and shoulder guard. Agron let the other man worry about undressing him, he was more interested in stroking Nasir’s oil softened skin, palming the round globes of his ass. Agron winced when he tried to grab hold of Nasir, his hands uncooperative. Nasir paused unbuckling Agron’s belt to grab hold of his hands and pressed gentle kisses to the centre of his palms. 

“Carefully.” Nasir instructed and replaced Agron’s hands on his ass, gently encouraging the other man to start rubbing soft circles. 

He returned to undressing Agron, swiftly stripping him to his skin and kneeling to unbuckle greaves and sandals. Agron gazed down at his lover, cock stirring in anticipation. But instead of leaning in to sheath Agron’s length in the wet heat of his mouth, Nasir rose and poured a bowl full of water and brought it and a cloth back to where Agron was standing. He placed the bowl on the floor and knelt again. 

Agron revelled in the feeling of the cloth’s long strokes up his dusty legs, ridding him of the last few day’s dirt. Unlike Nasir, Agron did not feel the need to cleanse himself every day, not having been used to such luxuries in servitude. He did love that Nasir would bathe and oil himself whenever he had the chance, appearing like a decadent Syrian prince in their rooms when Agron was not expecting it. It was the first time in a long time that he had appeared as such.

Nasir worked his way closer to Agron’s cock, now definitely interested in the proceedings. But, disappointingly, Nasir gave it a quick, efficient clean and returned to working on the rest of his body, slowly wringing water down his chest. 

After what felt like an eternity, Nasir finished his task, pressing a kiss to the centre of Agron’s chest. 

“Finally.” Agron growled, locking his forearms around Nasir’s back and lifting him towards the bed. 

Agron wanted to lay him gently down and worship him as he deserved but his hands refused to hold the other man’s weight so he clumsily let them both down on to the pallet, jarring his hands and causing him to wince again.

“Easy, my love, we have time.” Nasir assured him.

Agron propped himself up on his elbows above Nasir, leaning down to capture his lips in a kiss. They did kiss lackadaisically, mouths slowly pressing and opening, tongues interweaving and hot breaths being exchanged. Nasir’s legs fell open to cradle Agron close, burgeoning erections rubbing together. His hands roamed Agron’s body, working deep into a knot underneath Agron’s shoulder blade, then skimming lightly up the back of his neck into his short hair. 

Nasir hooked his leg around Agron, flipping their positions and driving an oof from Agron when he landed on his back. Nasir smiled wickedly and guided Agron’s hands to touch him. He ground down on Agron’s hard cock, the length slipping into position between Nasir’s cheeks and making both of them groan. Agron tightened his hands on Nasir’s hips, letting go immediately when the sharp stab of pain forced his hands open.

Agron rolled Nasir over onto his back again, roughly thrusting his cock between Nasir’s legs. He growled and determinedly grabbed at Nasir again, only to pull away with an enraged yell. He slammed his fist against the wall then yelled in pain again, rolling off the bed to his feet and storming around the small room with impotent rage. 

“Agron!” Nasir scrambled to his feet.

Agron slammed his shoulder into the wall once then twice before Nasir got himself between the taller man and the wall forcing Agron to choose between stopping or hurting Nasir. 

“Agron.” Nasir said more softly, cupping the German’s face in both his hands and trying to bring the other man’s head around to face him.

Agron tossed his head, trying to get away from Nasir’s grip. 

“Beloved, please!” Nasir pleaded, giving up trying to hold his head still and wrapped his arms around his body instead.

Tears of rage were prickling in Agron’s eyes and he resisted the urge to howl in rage. He hated his broken body. He hated his useless hands. Yes, he hated that he couldn’t hold his lover anymore but he couldn’t hold anything. He couldn’t hoe a plot of land, he couldn’t hunt for game, he couldn’t defend their people, he was useless. Agron didn’t know what to do with himself, he was coursing with furor but couldn’t batter his body until the feeling went away with Nasir wrapped around him. 

“Let go, let go.” Nasir murmured against his chest, stroking his tensed back.

They stood like that, Agron vibrating with useless power and Nasir stroking and murmuring to him, trying to soothe. All of a sudden all the tension in Agron’s body rushed out and he sagged into Nasir’s arms. The weight of him brought both men to their knees, landing hard on the carpets. Nasir held Agron up as the his body heaved with silent, tear-less sobs. 

“You will heal, my love.” Nasir assured him.

Agron went stiff and sat back on his heels, breaking Nasir’s embrace, and growled, “The medicus says I may never grip a sword again.”

Nasir just stroked his cheek, not knowing what to say to Agron’s painfully haunted look. 

“Come to bed. To rest.” Nasir clarified. 

And because Agron did not know what else to do, he let Nasir guide him back to their pallet. Nasir lay him down, then tucked himself in behind the other man. Agron didn’t know when Nasir went to sleep, he was tangentially aware of the other man’s even breathing but he couldn’t concentrate on anything but his own despair. He didn’t sleep that night.


	2. Chapter 2

Agron must have fallen asleep at some point because when he opened his bleary eyes it was morning, light streaming in from the small rectangular window high up on the wall. He was vaguely aware that he should have already been up and working, reviewing stores with Laeta or scheduling guard duties with Salvius or conferring with the medica on the status of the wounded and sick. Not that their medica was an actual medicum, she was an ex-body slave until their last two pseudo-medici died of their wounds. She was assisted by a medley of older women whose doctoring experience was limited to birthing and some slaves who had tended to the health of livestock. 

Agron sighed and sat up. He saw that Nasir had left salt and bread for him along side a cup of what was probably watered wine. He sighed again, he truly didn’t deserve his lover. He was ashamed of his outburst the night before, he tried hard to hide the frustration and agony his hands put him through from Nasir. He did not want the other man to see the despair he felt every time he tried to do something for himself and failed again and again. It was turning him into bitter, angry cripple but he hid it for Nasir’s sake. Getting up everyday, performing the daily duties needed to keep the approximately 150 ex-slaves fed and watered. 

Agron knew there were more of Spartacus’s rebels out there. Some were perfectly happy looting villas in the south, each band being picked off one by one by the Romans. Others were a part of the 7,000 who had gone north only to be decimated by Pompey, now disparate groups of wounded wandering slowly north. He tried to gather as many as were left after the massacre that was their final stand but it was said 6,000 were caught and crucified after the battle. 

Agron rose wearily but his heart swelled with love again when he noticed that Nasir had ripped the bread into portions because he knew Agron could not hold it tight enough to tear it. He tried hard to only see it as an act of love and not another glaring reminder of his disability. He could only close his fingers with enough strength to hold something as heavy as a piece of bread on his left hand and even then it was a struggle. He dipped the bread in salt, when he once might have sprinkled it on top, and began methodically chewing, thoughts wandering. When he had finished the bread, Agron turned his attention to the wine. He carefully wedged the cup between the heels of his palms and brought it awkwardly to his lips. 

Meal finished, Agron would have liked to dress and leave to go about his duties but, he suppressed the rising anger, he could not do so without Nasir. Agron had only in the last week been able to free his cock to piss without assistance again and had to give up his subligaculum in favour of loose fitting pants to do it. Buckling on his armour was beyond his ability. Though why he bothered with it when he could not hold a sword to fight if the Romans did surprise them, he did not know. He did know that giving it up would feel like giving up on his hands, conceding that he would never be a warrior again.

Pushing dark thoughts away, he sat himself on the edge of their pallet and held his right hand in front of him, focusing on the fingers. He slowly and painfully began trying to bend his fingers one by one. Agron knew enough of healing from battle wounds to know that if you wished to use a part of your body again, you must move it and not allow it to grow stiff and atrophy. 

That is how Nasir found him a while later. Sweat was beading on Agron’s brow and his teeth were clenched in pain but he was still working his fingers.

Nasir knelt next to him and gently wiped his brow, pressing a kiss to the other man’s temple. 

“Apologies, you have been waiting for me.” He got up and started putting the pieces of Agron’s clothing on the pallet.

“You cannot be always at my beck and call.” Agron’s voice was flat and his eyes still trained on his straining fingers.

“Apologies,” Nasir said sincerely, kneeling in front of Agron to look him in the eye.. “I did hope you would sleep longer but I was gone longer than expected.” 

Agron made a non-committal noise, still focused on his hand. 

Nasir suppressed a sigh, “Let me help you dress.” 

Agron rose obediently, allowing Nasir to move his limbs and dress him like a doll. He was preoccupied by the deep ache in his hands and repressing a surge of unreasonable resentment towards Nasir. He was angry that Nasir wasn’t there to help him when we woke up. He was angry that he needed Nasir’s help. He was angry that his hands hurt after such light exercise. And the anger from the night before still bubbled unresolved in his stomach. If Nasir noticed his stiffness he did not comment on it, keeping up a light chatter as he worked. 

“Aeliana’s baby is still strong so she is finally considering names.”

Agron concentrated on walling off his anger, boxing it away so he could continue, so he could lead, so he could survive. 

“Atporix was up and complaining around the cook fire.”

Agron focused on the pain in his hands and used it to drive all thoughts from his mind. The radiating ache brought clarity.

“Apparently, we should give up the dream of leaving Italia and settle here.”

Agron slowly tuned back in to Nasir’s words, pushing the pain to the back of his mind.

“Well, we will be sure to leave him behind when we sail for Dalmatia.” Agron smiled at Nasir. “Did anyone miss my presence?”

“Salvius was looking for you but I told him to wait and Laeta-”

Agron cut him off with a swift kiss, “I must go then.”

Nasir smiled and pulled him in for a longer kiss before allowing him to leave. Agron headed to the courtyard where he hoped to find Laeta, their supply situation needed addressing. After, he would head to the makeshift infirmary set up in the large, warm bedroom next to the kitchen to see how the 27 sick and wounded were faring. He wove his way through the corridors that used to house the villa’s slaves. He and Nasir had taken the smallest room, a former storeroom, leaving the larger rooms to house what few families that were left and to serve as gathering places. He was just happy to have some privacy after so many months since their comfortable apartment in Sinuessa.

Arriving in the courtyard, Agron saw Salvius sparring with some of the few fighting-fit men and women left. Dardanos, a Thracian lacking in Spartacus’s fire but a solid man none the less, was working with Salvius to direct the drills. Agron watched for a moment before walking over to join the two men. 

“Good morning,” Salvius said, wiping his brow and taking a deep drink from the waterskin Dardanos offered him.

“Surely you mean afternoon,” Dardanos joked. “It must be mast midday.”

“I did not know you needed me here to hold your cocks for you.” Agron quipped.

“We do need to speak about guard rotations and sending some scouts with the next hunting party.” Salvius said seriously. “It’s been too long without a sighting of any Roman shits.”

They hadn’t seen Romans in over two weeks. The trip from the battle near the banks of Sele to where they were squatting near Sipontum would have taken just over a fortnight if they had not been burdened with sick and wounded and did not have to avoid Roman patrols and any settlements. As it was, it took over a month before they found the relative safety of their current isolated position, a summerhouse for some Larinesi business man or Casalini official. 

“Guard rotations?” Agron asked. “I take that to mean it is Atporix’s turn to do the night watch rotations.”

“And he was found asleep during tertia vigilia last night.” Salvius reported. “He says the Romans will not find us.”

Many of those left were old, sick or otherwise unused to assuming protection or provision duties, not having had to when those of fighting form and disposition were around. What Agron had now was an assortment of untested amateurs playing at protecting themselves. Those who had been with Laeta were those who could not keep up with the main group of northward fleeing rebels, those being the only ones willing to wait with her, hoping for Spartacus’s arrival after the battle. And Atporix was not the only one who did not take to the change in responsibilities.

Agron sighed, “For now keep him to prima and secunda vigilia until I can think of something else to do with him.”

“And the scouts?” Salvius asked.

“Send Tascilla and Vezina with the hunters, they will leave tomorrow before dawn.”

Dardanos nodded in approval at the choices.

“Nasir will lead?” Dardanos asked even though it wasn’t a question, of course Nasir would.

While Agron could trust a handful of the remaining rebels to organize certain aspects of their life on the run, he was lacking in experienced warriors. Salvius would have been a good choice if the old Roman’s leg hadn’t been shattered by a horse’s kick years before. Dardanos was handy with a spear but couldn’t lead himself to cunt in a brothel. Tacilla and Vezina were capable women and they were valuable scouts but they were more suited to slip away silently from danger than confront it head on. With his own self out of commission, Nasir was the only choice. 

“Yes, and we here must begin making arrangements for the sail to Dalmatia.”

“So soon?” Salvius asked, surprised. “We have only been here for a week.”

“Less than.” Dardanos chimed in. 

“The summer looms, the more time that passes the more likely the Magistrate or trader who owns this place will seek a city escape.” Agron paused before adding. “And I worry that we are not so secure as Atporix’s group would like to believe.”

“When do we leave?” Salvius was resolved.

“Not immediately,” Agron said. “I just want to be better prepared than we are now. Centralize the stores, check the hospital supplies, that sort of thing.”

“What can we do?” Dardanos asked. 

“Keep drilling our small force, fletch more arrows and ensure our blades are sharp and ready.” Agron glance up at the sun’s position. “I must go to the infirmary.”

“Laeta sought you earlier as well.” Salvius said by way of farewell to Agron’s retreating back.

Agron strode back inside the villa, mind already on Decima and her patients. He did not like spending too much time with those who could still hold a sword. It was a cruel reminder. Leave it to Salvius and Dardanos, Nasir and the other able bodied. 

Agron never thought he would be using his brain instead of his brawn. In all those meetings with Spartacus, never thought he would be doing this alone, leading and making decisions for more than himself and Nasir. He felt the weight of the responsibility, he felt what Spartacus must have felt for these past years. He passed various people in the halls, gave a nod of acknowledgement here, a quick word there. Each one of them depending on him for their survival. None more than those in their infirmary. 

Agron ducked through the curtained entrance into a stifling hot room with cots and bunks full of the old and sick and the young and injured. Agron’s decision on when to move and where to go would be life or death for these people. Decima hurried up to him when she noticed him standing in the doorway.

“Agron!” She sounded relieved. “We run low on gentiane and silphium, as well as bandages.”

“Good day to you to, Decima.” Agron smiled. “I am well, thank you for asking.”

The medica huffed in irritation, “I have been waiting since dawn to break word with you.”

“What has happened?” Agron grew serious.

Decima drew him back through the curtain to the narrow hallway outside. 

“I do not know, some sort of fever is spreading.” Decima looked worried.

“How many?” Agron frowned.

“It was two last night at the start of prima vigilia, then six this morning at dawn.” Decima replied. “I want to have them separated from the rest.”

“Is it likely to be catching to the healthy?” Agron had seen such a fever rage through his village as a boy.

“No, no,” Decima assured. “I and half the others tending them have had it and not missed a day of work.”

“Quarantine the six, isolate the sick from the wounded and start getting those that can up on their feet.” Agron instructed. “I will have Salvius send some help to move them.”

“We are leaving?” Decima sounded surprised.

“Not now,” Agron mollified. “But we need to start preparing.”

“And the herbs?” Decima asked anxiously.

“A hunt is leaving tomorrow at dawn, send one of your apprentices with them.” Agron turned to leave.

“Wait, if we are preparing to leave, we must review the medical stores,” Decima caught his arm and pulled him back through the curtain into the hot infirmary.

An hour or two later Agron was freed but only after Decima had seen to his hands and applied some cool balm and new bandages. Agron walked to the atrium where recent rain had filled the pool. He was sweating from the heat of the infirmary and just wanted to dunk his head into cool water. Agron was faced with a dilemma as he knelt next to the pool. He couldn’t balance himself on his palms and lean in to dunk his head, but he also considered his new, dry bandages and didn’t want to use his hands to splash water onto his face.

“Allow me.” Pollux knelt next to Agron and wet a cloth, wringing it out over the taller man’s head.

Agron closed his eyes and let his head fall back under the stream of water. Pollux laughed merrily at the satisfied groan Agron let out as the caked sweat on his brow washed away. But then Agron shook his head like a wet dog and the young Celt shrieked. That drew the attention of the others in the atrium and some knowing looks that Agron missed. If he had been thinking of how the scene looked, he may have anticipated Nasir’s anger at coming upon them splashing each other, all considerations for keeping his bandages dry abandoned.

As it was, Agron was happy to see his lover and splashed him playfully. Nasir did not smile. The scene Nasir was looking down at was Agron, who had not been this light in months, laughing and cavorting with a lithely appealing, young ex-concubine. Pollux’s golden blond hair was curling with dampness and escaping the small braids that were holding it back from his face. Agron’s dimples were on full display and everyone in the atrium was watching them. Nasir’s face burned in embarrassment. 

“Agron.” Nasir’s tone made Agron cock his head to the side in confusion.

“Beloved.” Agron answered carefully.

“I have words to break.” 

Agron made to rise, reaching out his arms so Nasir could help him up by the forearms. When Nasir hesitated a split second, Pollux was there, sliding between the two of them smoothly. Agron saw Nasir grit his teeth as he stepped back to make room for the younger man. Agron rose to his feet and barely noticed that Pollux held on a moment longer than necessary to steady his rise, he was focused, instead, on Nasir’s disapproving face. 

“Gratitude, Pollux.” Agron said kindly to the Celt, causing Nasir’s upper lip to curl in anger. 

“Goodbye, Agron...” Pollux looked over at Nasir as if he had forgotten he was there and added, “Nasir.”

Nasir’s nostrils flared and he turned on his heel, not waiting for Agron to follow. Agron’s long strides meant he caught Nasir as he reached the tablinum. He reached out to grab Nasir to make him explain himself but he pulled back with a hiss of pain when he tried. Nasir turned reflexively at the sound, brow knit in concern. 

“Are you alright?” Nasir asked anxiously.

“Are you?” Agron asked, trying to take Nasir’s hand in his two broken ones.

Nasir pulled his hand away, “I hate to pull you away from your fun but there is work to be done.”

“Pollux’s attempts to assist may have gotten out of hand.” Agron conceded with a chuckle.

“You resent my help but relish in the care of another!” Nasir was angry. 

“I do not resent-”

“Yes, you do!” Nasir cut him off. “And it is fine, but what am I to think when you then take pleasure in the attentions of that preening tart!”

Agron was speechless.

“Is it his form? I was much of a similar form when you first cast your attentions on me-”

“Nasir!” Agron cut in sharply. “You are seeing things that are not there.”

“Not there!?” Nasir said too loudly.

They both noticed the attentions of the rebels in the atrium were once again turned towards them so Nasir led the way back to their room where they could have some privacy, the entire journey in icy silence. Agron was thinking of what to say, he was not as silver tongued as Gannicus was nor as earnest as Spartacus, and he often said the wrong things to Nasir. It was made harder by the fact that he believed Nasir was blowing things wildly out of proportion. They reached their small room and Nasir wrenched the door open and stormed inside. Agron cautiously followed, closing the door behind him.

“Nasir,” Agron began carefully, “Pollux is nothing to me. I could not tell you what his form looks like because I only have eyes for yours.”

“You were smiling.” Nasir said quietly.

“So it was just a smile, I-” Agron began.

“You have not smiled like that since before we arrived at the banks of the Sele.” Nasir interjected, then said more softly, “I have not made you smile like that.”

“Nasir.” Agron was pained by the look on the other man’s face, dejected and uncertain.

Agron reached out to gather Nasir in his arms and after some token resistance, the shorter man let himself be folded into Agron’s embrace. 

“We have not been as one in many months.” Nasir said into Agron’s chest.

“This is about last night?” Agron asked guiltily. “I am sorry that I ruined things... I should not have let my pain best me.”

Nasir pulled back, “This is not about sex, Agron.”

“Tell me then, my love, so I can drive your fears away.” Agron pleaded.

“We have not broken word on any subject but rebellion, we have not touched but for what duty requires and yes, we have not made love, but it is more, I feel so far from you.” Nasir said. 

“I am right here.” Agron said, crushing Nasir tightly to his chest. “I am here.”

Nasir didn’t answer, just pressed his face against Agron’s collarbone and pulled on Agron’s armour straps to bring him closer.

“I am sorry, I have been selfish of late, too focused on my own healing.” 

One more thing to blame on his hands. He hated that they pained him but he could not stand that they brought pain to Nasir as well, even indirectly. 

“I am also to blame, I have not supported you-” Nasir began.

“No, Nasir, I will not have you shoulder any of my blame. I would not be here today without your support. I would have died of these long ago.” Agron raised his cursed hands and Nasir took them in his own, pressing kisses to the knuckles. “You must tell me when you feel such things.”

“I would not burden you, you have enough cares.” Nasir hesitated before continuing. “I know you struggle with fighting a darkness, at times.”

Agron had thought he had hidden his dark thought from Nasir; thought he had successfully fooled the other man. He wondered who else might know of his despair.

“My concerns are not so great that I would not want to know what troubles you.” Agron tried to squeeze Nasir’s hands comfortingly but gave them more of a weak twitch.

Nasir was quiet for a moment before saying, “I did not care for seeing you with Pollux.”

“He is nothing!” Agron insisted. 

“I know, my love, I know,” Nasir reassured him. “...I still do not like the boy.”

Agron gave a bark of laughter and his dimples winked at Nasir. 

“Now he has made you laugh twice.” Nasir said sourly.

“You ludicrous man!” Agron groaned but Nasir smiled and leaned in to kiss him to show he was partly joking.

Agron gladly met the other man’s questing lips with his own, happy to leave arguments behind. They fell deeply into each other, intensely and desperately pressing together. Agron pushed Nasir towards the wall, crowding the smaller man with his body. Nasir allowed himself to be trapped against the wall, slowly riding the thigh Agron had insinuated between his legs. Agron’s clumsy fingers tangled in Nasir’s raven locks, unable to grasp as he wanted them to. Nasir’s hands were down Agron’s pants, palming Agron’s hardening cock.

“Let me take care of you.” Nasir whispered against Agron’s lips.

Agron let Nasir stroke and pull his cock to hardness, thrusting lightly into Nasir’s fist. He moaned and pulled at Nasir’s hair to tilt his head back and expose his throat to Agron’s teeth and tongue. Agron sucked hard on Nasir’s pulse point, biting and laving and bruising. Nasir pushed away from the wall and guided Agron to their bed, laying him down and then climbing on top of him. Agron groaned at the familiar feeling of Nasir’s ass settling against his crotch and bucked up into the other man. Nasir smiled wickedly and ground down hard. 

“Tease.” Agron growled. 

“Only if I do not intend to follow through.” Nasir winked and kissed him again. 

They kissed and rubbed against each other, heat growing between them. Nasir slipped off of Agron and stood, hastily stripping off his clothes. Agron reached out, beckoning Nasir back to bed but Nasir slipped easily out of reach. He went to the table to retrieve their vial of oil, something that hadn’t seen use in many weeks. Agron expected Nasir to return to him but instead the other man bent over the table, throwing a sultry look over his shoulder at Agron. Nasir reached back with one hand and began running a finger up and down over his hole. Agron sat up at attention and Nasir smirked. 

Nasir’s hand disappeared only to return slicked with oil. He pressed a finger inside himself, grimacing slightly at the familiar but long absent feeling. Nasir shallowly teased himself, working his finger deeper with each press. Agron’s mouth watered as he watched Nasir’s face clouded over with lust. Nasir was making quick work of preparing himself, moving on to a second finger before Agron would have said he was ready. Agron’s fingers itched to be the ones plunging in and out of Nasir, drawing small noises of pleasure. Nasir gave one final twist before pulling out and straightening up. 

Nasir returned to Agron and knelt beside him, leaning over to give him an indecent kiss, all thrusting tongue and clashing teeth. Agron’s useless hands pawed at Nasir, trying to draw him back on top of him. Nasir was just as eager to return and didn’t bother with taking off Agron’s armour, instead he shimmied Agron’s pants down and climbed back on top. He lined Agron’s cock up with his entrance and paused there, pulling away from Agrons attempts to thrust up.

“Tease.” Agron accused again, the frustration of not being able to grab the other man and force him down on his cock was building.

Nasir smiled before sinking down on Agron’s cock without warning. Agron groaned and thrust hard up into Nasir. Nasir sat there, Agron fully sheathed inside, grinding slowly, eyes closed and head thrown back. Agron’s hands petted up and down Nasir’s sides, longing to grip and anchor Nasir to himself. Agron ached to flip them over and drive into the other man again and again, to use his pent up strength to claim and own Nasir.

His love must have sensed his growing frustration because he said again, “Let me take care of you.” and began to move.

Nasir rolled his hips in that way he had that pulled moans from deep inside Agron. He lifted off, nearly unseating Agron’s cock, and slammed himself back down. He roughly rode Agron’s answering thrusts and grabbed a hold of the prone man’s armour straps to keep his position on top. Agron was going to finish embarrassingly quickly, he couldn’t fight back from the edge. What was worse, he couldn’t close his hands to bring Nasir to completion before him. He cried out as he came, thrusting wildly up into Nasir. 

Nasir rode out Agron’s pleasure, grabbing him by the wrists so he couldn’t hurt himself grasping at Nasir’s hips. Agron slowly came down to Nasir stroking up and down his arms, soothing him back to earth. When Agron’s sensed returned he reached down despite his broken hands to try and help Nasir to climax but the other man was only half hard. Agron’s heart dropped and he made to speak but Nasir cut him off with a kiss.

“Do not worry about me, love.” Nasir said, rolling off of Agron to cuddle up against his side. “My pleasure came when you let yourself go for the first time in too long.”

“But-” Agron began.

“Trust me, it was enjoyable for me regardless.” Nasir assured.

“Nasir-” Agron began again.

“Fine, you can make it up to me tonight.” Nasir appeased, leaning in to kiss Agron again before rising.

Nasir wet a cloth and cleaned himself before throwing it playfully at Agron.

“Besides, you have work to do.”


	3. Chapter 3

And work Agron did, directing the consolidation of stores and organizing the shift of the sick and wounded and rearrangement of sleeping quarters to keep them segregated. By the time he fell to bed that night, Nasir was already asleep in preparation for leaving before dawn for the hunt. Agron sighed, he made a halfhearted attempt at unbuckling himself before resigning himself to sleeping in his armour. He rolled into bed next to Nasir, spooning in behind him, half hoping the other man would wake up but Nasir didn’t stir. 

In the dim light of the morning Nasir woke him with a kiss to the forehead. Agron stirred and made a noise of sleepy inquiry.

“Leaving for the hunt.” Nasir whispered, dropping another kiss on Agron’s temple. “I will return in a few days.”

“Days?”Agron’s head came up sharply.

“Yes, someone wants us to go far enough out for the scouts to get a good idea of what is around.” Nasir reminded him.

Agron did remember, but he hadn’t properly considered the consequences of that decision.

“But days?” Agron almost whined.

“Shhh, go back to sleep.” Nasir soothed. “I shall count the hours till I return to you.”

“And I shall count the minutes.” Agron replied, running the back of his hand across Nasir’s cheek. 

Nasir smiled and pressed a chaste kiss to Agron’s lips, “I will return as soon as I can.”

Agron slumped back into the pillows as Nasir slipped out the door, closing it quietly behind him. He had not been without Nasir for more than a day since they were reunited. With his ruined hands, Nasir became an essential extension of himself, needed to perform tasks big and small. But Agron relied on Nasir for more than that, he needed the other man to keep him together, to keep the dark thoughts that were always looming at bay. He needed a reason to continue on everyday and Nasir gave him that. 

Agron rolled over and buried his head in Nasir’s pillow, inhaling the scent of him. He took a moment to savour the smell before sighing and resigning himself to not getting any more sleep. He rose and poured himself a cup of water from the pitcher on the table that Nasir must have filled. There was also a small plate of cheese and small sour grapes that Agron began to pick at as he considered his day. There was still a full inventory to be done with Laeta and he would take his turn on the watch this afternoon. But first, he would work his hands, something that had become more promising of late but the pace of healing was still infuriating and there was the niggling fear that this would be the extent of his abilities for the rest of his life.

Agron pushed the dark thought away, not willing to spiral if he could help it. He sat on the edge of their pallet and began to flex his right hand open, pulling on his healing skin and curling his fingers closed, trying to make a fist. Was it his imagination that he felt more strength? Agron had the sudden desire to see his hand tighten, see the muscles contract. He used his teeth to pull on the bandage and unwrapped the fabric, exposing his scabbed palm, new pink skin peaking out at the edges. He slowly flexed his fingers one by one towards his palm, the thumb and index finger bending almost smoothly and the last three stiff and painfully bowing to his concentrated will. Agron watched the muscles and bones move beneath the healing skin on the back of his hand. He switched to touching his fingers, one by one, to his thumb. His mind didn’t wander as he concentrated on his task, grimacing as he ran through his exercises. He could feel sweat building on his forehead and the ache in his hands became sharp pain.

By the time Agron was finished, he felt like falling back to bed but he forced himself up and out of the small room. He wandered the quiet halls of the villa, it was still early enough that the only ones awake were the night guards. He walked out on to the veranda, gazing out on the unruly garden; what edible plants there were had been harvested by the rebels and left dark scars in the earth. He could see a guard standing on top of the bathhouse that was up against the villa wall, leaning on a spear and keeping watch as she should be.

Agron leaned against the railing and considered their plan to sail away from Italia. There were ships from Sipontum that would take them to Salona in Dalmatia, one of the largest cities in the empire, large enough city that those who wanted to could make a life there, blending in. That wasn’t what Agron intended for him and Nasir though, they would make their way through Pannonia to Germania and the lands east of the Rhine. Nasir had no ties to Syria and Syria was under Roman control, whereas Agron could remember his life in Germania and longed to return to the free lands of his people. He knew some would wish to join them but if Agron was honest with himself, the mantle of leader chaffed and he longed to be alone with Nasir, worrying only about the two of them. 

“You rise early this morning.” Laeta said, coming up behind him and mirroring his position against the railing. 

“I could not fall to sleep after Nasir’s departure.” Agron said.

“Separation is... difficult,” Laeta looked into the distance.

“I should not speak to you of it, my apologies.” Agron did not mean to bring up thoughts of the loss of Spartacus. 

Laeta looked at him with a smile, “Even temporary separation can bring pain.”

“I worry about him as well.” Agron admitted. 

“You know he can take care of himself.” Laeta soothed. 

“I know, but I prefer it when I take care of him.” Agron grumbled.

“He has taken care of you these past weeks.” Laeta reminded lightly.

Agron grimaced and Laeta quickly added, “Now it is my turn to apologize. It must be challenging adapting to...” she trailed off with a vague gesture towards Agron’s hands. 

“Does everyone see me so weak?” Agron didn’t look at Laeta.

“It is not weakness and you are still our leader, you are respected.” Laeta reached out to stroke his arm comfortingly. 

Agron hesitated, wondering how much he could share with her, wondered if he should share with her, the extent of his weakness. Then he remembered Spartacus placed his trust in this woman.

“I cannot even unbuckle my own sandals.” Agron said quietly, he could not read Laeta’s look. “Nasir dresses and undresses me as if I were a child.”

Laeta was silent a moment, considering her words no doubt, before saying, “After all you have been through, you cannot allow this to be the thing that breaks you. You have a man who would gladly move heaven and earth for you, relying on him for this should not shame you.”

“I am a burden. Sometimes I wonder why Nasir bears it.” Agron looked at his hands, still unwrapped, and he curled them into a semblance of fists, wanting to lash out at something. 

“For love.” Laeta said simply, leaning in to pull Agron into a loose hug.

Agron wished it was that easy, just believe that love made playing nursemaid worth it for Nasir. He couldn’t help but feel even their lovemaking the day before was anything but Nasir taking care of him. The other man hadn’t even orgasmed. The darkness in Agron was working its tentacles into his thoughts and he wondered if Nasir had decided to extend the hunt to be away from him, get a break, be free of his daily, hourly, obligations. 

“There is work to be done, have you eaten?” Agron switched topics, forcing himself to smile faintly.

Laeta hadn’t so they took time for her to pick up a bowl of barley porridge, eating it on a low bench in the kitchen and gossiping with the women preparing the morning meal. Agron sat silent and nodded when appropriate but did not participate, thoughts turning back to Nasir’s absence. They had not discussed the hunt lasting multiple days, was it because Nasir did not want to risk having Agron disagree, robbing him of his temporary freedom?

By the time Laeta was finished, the last thing Agron wanted to do was spend the morning counting stores. He wanted to crawl back to his bed and hold Nasir’s pillow to his face and smell the lingering scent of his lover. He had had days like this though, when his despair became too much. While he had Spartacus to lead and inspire him and Nasir by his side and Roman blood on his sword he was able to believe he had healed from his brother’s death, that any dark thoughts in dark nights were ephemeral, fleeing before the light of day. But since Spartacus’s passing what had once only been haunting spectres in the night became a darkness that plagued him during the day. The pressure of being in charge, his disability and the loss of nearly everyone he had known only exacerbated feelings he had had pushed down after Duro’s death. But he had had days like this before and knew how to smother his feelings, lock them away and mechanically move through his daily tasks.

“Agron?” Laeta asked, obviously having been trying to get his attention for a while. 

“Apologies, my mind wanders.” Agron pushed a reassuring smile on to his face and lead the way out of the kitchen to the larder where they had the stores consolidated yesterday.

Laeta followed, picking up the stylus and half started list from the edge of the kitchen counter on her way. What followed was a few hours of shifting chests and sacks on Laeta’s part and counting and re-counting on Agron’s. They argued about how much could be taken with them on a ship, how much would be needed for the three day journey, never mind that Agron did not yet have a plan to get them a ship. They speculated on raiding a smaller villa, north so the Romans would think they moved to join the other remnants of Spartacus’s army. Agron would not sit out for that, Nasir would have to fashion him another shield-sword to lash to his forearm. His hands should be healed enough that it shouldn’t compromise his healing skin. 

When they were through it was only late morning but Agron was hungry and left Laeta to seek out nourishment. Sibyl was in the kitchen when Agron arrived. He had not spoken much to the girl since the loss of Gannicus, she had been like a ghost since the battle, a barely there presence in their camps. She was stirring a bubbling cauldron, porridge replaced with some sort of stew, on the fire with a serious look on her face but it was clear her mind was wandering. She started when she noticed Agron in the room.

“Apologies, my thoughts were elsewhere, did you need something?” She asked.

“I came hoping for an early midday meal.” Agron gave her a small smile, one dimple making a brief appearance.

“Yes, of course,” Sibyl turned to look for a bowl. “Though I am not certain turnips are cooked through.”

“That does not bother me.” Agron assured her as she ladled a generous portion.

She held it out to him as she turned to grab him a piece of bread. Agron went to take the bowl, awkwardly balancing the weight on the sides of his hands when Sibyl turned back and noticed. 

“Apologies!” She said, pulling the bowl away from Agron. “I did not think, apologies.”

Sibyl placed the bowl on the long table that ran nearly the length of the kitchen, where the slaves used to have their meals. She put down the piece of bread and a spoon before pushing Agron on to the bench to sit in front of the meal.

“Worry not.” Agron assured, contemplating the spoon in front of him.

He didn’t want Sibyl to watch him awkwardly wield the utensil. To support the weight, he needed to lay the handle across his palm, curling his fingers and thumb as best he could to hold it there and then it was a jerky, stiff journey to his mouth, overall an ungainly process that exposed more of Agron’s weaknesses than he wanted. Sibyl noticed his hesitation and guessed the source.

“The other cooks are supposed to be gathering herbs but will likely be at least an hour gossiping in the atrium and no one else will appear for ages yet.” She said. “I am going to mill some grain in the larder and expect that I will be gone a while.”

Agron nodded and gave her a grateful smile.

“Just mind the pot does not boil over.” Sibyl said as she slipped out of the room.

Agron had to use both hands to pick up the large chunk of bread which he dunked into the stew to soften it. When it was full of liquid it was soft enough for him to bite of a piece without needing hold the piece and pull. When he turned to using his spoon he found that Sibyl was right, the turnips were not quite cooked but he had had much worse both as a slave and a freeman so he just crunched down on the hard vegetable pieces. Agron quickly finished his meal, carrying it to the wash basin but unable to wash it himself. He stuck his head into the larder where Sibyl was diligently grinding grain by hand.

“Gratitude.” He said and hoped she knew it was for more than the stew.

Sibyl just nodded to him and gave a small smile before turning back to her work. Agron hesitated a moment, aware that he should make more of an effort with her, that the loss of Gannicus weighed on her but he didn’t know what to say, didn’t have the words. So instead, Agron walked down the narrow corridors, no destination in mind, he would be on guard duty soon. He supposed he should get his hands re-wrapped, but he liked the feeling of air on his hands again and decided against it. 

He reached the atrium, the default gathering place for rebels with no duties. A large pool dominated the space and the rebels had cleared the large, stone planters to turn into fire pits for the night. They were cold now, having burnt out long before dawn. Perched on the narrow ledge of the one to Agron’s right was Pollux. The young Celt smiled at Agron, beckoning him over with a small head cock. Agron ambled over but the argument with Nasir the day before couldn’t help but come to mind. 

“Good morning,” Pollux said when Agron was close enough. “I did not see you at breakfast.”

“I arose early with Nasir.” Agron said.

“Ah yes, the hunt.” Pollux said. “When do you expect them to return?”

“A few days.” Agron shrugged as if it was no big deal for him. “Our stores of meat grow low.” 

He did not mention the scouting mission.

“You shall be without your helper.” Pollux hopped off the wall as Agron frowned at the choice of word. “Please let me be of assistance in any way you need.”

“That is a kind offer, thank you.” Agron answered, not sure what else to say.

“No duties to drag you away today?” Pollux asked.

“I have to relieve the morning guard soon.” Agron replied. “And you? You have not been put to work?”

“Put me to work.” Pollux said and Agron now noticed the suggestive look Pollux gave him.

“Salvius could use you fletching arrows.” Agron said and it was Pollux’s turn to frown.

“Can I fetch you midday meal first? Perhaps we can break bread together before your turn at the wall.” Pollux wheedled.

“I have already eaten but see yourself to the kitchen before seeking out Salvius.” Agron turned to leave but Pollux caught his arm.

“Please, do not hesitate to call on me.” He said sincerely, all trace of suggestion gone. 

“Gratitude.” Agron said before heading for the front door of the villa.

He walked outside looking for Rufus but the boy was no where to be seen. Agron was immediately on guard, dropping into a crouch and head on a swivel. Before he could do anything further he heard a giggle from the grand tree to the right of the entrance and he looked up to see the young Roman perched on a branch high above. 

“What are you doing up there, scamp?” Agron relaxed his stance as Rufus shimmied down.

“I told Nasir it would work!” Rufus crowed as he reached the ground. 

“Very stealthy.” Agron agreed, ruffling the boy’s hair affectionately. 

“He told me I was not ready to be a scout.” Rufus pouted. “He refused to take me with them.”

Agron knew Nasir wouldn’t have been so cruel to phrase it like that but he nodded sympathetically nonetheless.

“Nasir knew you had other duties.” Agron explained. “Guarding the villa is just as important as going with the hunt.”

“But it is boring!” Rufus declared, crossing his arms in a huff.

“Did you not hear of the last people to think that?” Agron asked.

“Who?” Rufus asked, interested despite himself. 

“We were camped near Mt. Vesuvius.” Agron began in his best story telling voice. “We had outsmarted the Romans, hidden in an old temple. But we had grown too confident, too comfortable, we let our guards down.”

Rufus’s eyes were wide and attentive.

“We did not work together and we paid for it, we were set upon by the Romans in the dark of the night. They came over the wall as our sentries slept and attacked us in our beds.”

Rufus gave out a small gasp, “And then what happened?”

“We were lucky.” Agron said solemnly. 

“Lucky??” Rufus echoed incredulously.

“Yes,” Agron smiled. “For it was Spartacus.”

“Spartacus!” Rufus cried.

“He planned the attack to show us our failings. To teach us to never be complacent.” Agron paused for effect. “And that is why every watch is important.”

Rufus didn’t look fully convinced.

“And then the Romans did attack, of course, but that is a story for another day.” Agron said, shooing the boy towards the villa. “For now, you need to go have your midday meal with your mother.”

“But Agron!” Rufus whined.

“Go along.” Agron said with a smile, pushing him towards the open gate. 

Rufus grumbled but shuffled off, presumably to find his mother. Agron smiled to himself. He had been that boy, wanting to go hunting with his father and his older cousins but being left behind to mind Duro instead. His father always told him it was an important job, guarding his mother and his younger siblings, but at that age Agron didn’t agree. 

Sighing and looking out at the 50 yards of lawn between the villa and the forest, Agron settled in for a boring shift. There were six sentries on duty at all times. One at each of the entrances and four on the roof of the villa watching each corner. Agron, unable to climb, was always one of the guards on the ground and, despite the conversation he had just had with Rufus about every job being important, he knew the roof sentries would see anyone approaching long before he did. His role was more to secure the gate as soon as the warning was raised and that did make it difficult to keep his mind from wandering. And it wandered to their plan for escape.

He still did not have an idea for how they would get a ship to take them to Salona. They had 24 rebels trained in holding sword, spear or bow. If they were gladiators Agron would not have questioned their ability to take a ship in the dead of the night from Sipontum’s docks but as it was all of them had been trained after being freed. The bowmen were quite skilled, Mira had taught all 6 of them herself, including Pollux. They had 3 decent spearmen and their swordsmen were a mix of battle hardened veterans and those newer to war. And then there was the problem of actually sailing the damn thing. Once everyone was aboard they could row but they couldn’t march 147 rebels on to a stolen boat even if it was in the middle of the night. The 24 warriors would have to sail it along the coast to pick up the others after the boat was taken. 

The others may want to delay a little longer, the feeling of safety, however false, that walls and a roof gave was hard to give up. But the longer they waited the lower their supplies got and the more likely it was that someone would find them hiding here. Agron knew if they were to be caught within these walls they would be done for. He could probably get himself and Nasir out but there was no way the other man would let them leave the others to die. And because Agron wouldn’t leave Nasir to die, Agron had to find a way to get them all out of here alive. He mulled it over for the rest of his watch, the time passing slowly. 

Finally the sun set and the moon was on the rise when the first watch of the night came to relieve Agron. He exchanged a few words with Dardanos who, finished training for the day, was taking his turn on watch, before heading inside in search of evening meal. As he came through the doors into the atrium, Agron almost ran straight into Pollux who was balancing two bowls and a small plate of bread.

“Apologies!” Agron and Pollux both said at once.

Pollux smiled, “No need, I thought to bring you your evening meal, you must be famished.”

Agron felt flustered, before Nasir had said anything he would have just accepted this as a kindness, but now Agron was worried he would send the wrong message to the boy by encouraging this behaviour. But, Pollux did look sincere and there was no trace of innuendo, so Agron nodded towards the large planter where they could sit and eat. Pollux followed him over but Agron realized he couldn’t eat in front of Pollux, let alone all the other people in the atrium, it would showcase his weakness. Agron was thinking about how to get out of this situation when Pollux must have noticed the look on his face.

“Or perhaps we should eat in the kitchen, less distractions.” He suggested.

Agron still had to think of a way to get rid of him but this was a good start so he nodded and lead the way into the villa. They reached the kitchen, Agron impressed that Pollux was so easily able to balance the load but, unlike Agron, he had to learn during slavery and one learned quickly or one went to the mines. When they arrived it was still Sibyl manning the soup pot, she looked startled when she saw them together.

“Agron,” She said, raising her eyebrows. “and Pollux, how can I help?”

“We seek a more private place to take our meal.” Pollux said imperiously, setting their meals down and sitting on the long bench.

Sibyl’s eyebrows went higher when she looked at Agron for confirmation. Agron winced at Pollux’s phrasing.

“The atrium is teeming at this time,” Agron explained. “We are simply seeking space to sit and eat.”

Sibyl gave Agron a look he couldn’t read.

“I must go and find Laeta...?” She trailed off questioningly, obviously reluctant to leave them alone.

“Go, do not let us detain you. We will have our meal and will likely be gone before you return.” Agron assured.

Agron sat down in front of his meal as Sibyl left the kitchen with a last look over her shoulder. Pollux smiled widely at Agron and began eating his stew. Agron considered the meal before him, unwilling to pick up his spoon, he reached for the piece of bread. Even though he used his left, the stronger of his two hands, he couldn’t support the weight of the bread with one hand. He tried to casually dip the bread two handed into the bowl but the movement was awkward and Pollux immediately noticed. 

“Apologies!” He said, reaching across the table and easily pulling the bread from Agron’s grasp. “I did not think.” 

Pollux began to rip the bread into smaller pieces as Agron’s face burned with shame. Pollux finished portioning out the bread and looked up and noticed Agron’s flaming cheeks.

“Do not feel shame, I used to do the same for my brother when he was too injured to feed himself.” Pollux.

Agron tried for a small grateful smile but he didn’t know if he pulled it off. Instead he grabbed the chance to deflect the conversation away from his disability.

“Brother?” Agron asked. “Where is he know?”

“Dead.” Pollux said flatly, looking down into his bowl. “Killed by the Romans while we were yet in chains.”

“I also had a brother killed by those shits.” Agron said. “Duro, he was also a gladiator.”

“Castor.” Pollux replied. “He was killed in the brothel we were sold to before I was bought by my dominus.”

Agron was back to the moment when Duro sacrificed himself for Agron, blade spearing his belly. But Pollux was lost in his own tragedy, eyes unfocused, staring into the distance.

“Castor and Pollux, a great draw for a whorehouse, matching golden haired twins. We were in much demand.” Pollux said bitterly. “The only good thing about our reputation was that patrons could not leave lasting marks.” 

Pollux stretched out his once pale, flawless arms, now scratched and tan, obviously remembering some trauma inflicted of which there was no trace.

“Castor never did know how to accept our situation. He would always find small ways to rebel and then he would be punished. Our whore-mongering owner knew a thousand ways to inflict pain without breaking the skin.” Pollux looked up at Agron, seeming to remember his presence. “So, you see, I am well acquainted with assisting those injured.”

Pollux gave Agron a smile but Agron could see that part of him was still back in that whorehouse.

“Gratitude.” Agron picked up a piece of bread and dipped it in his stew. “My brother, Duro, too found himself frequently injured at the ludus but by other gladiators... it was the Romans that got him in the end though.”

“How did he meet his end?” Pollux asked softly.

“He died protecting me during our uprising against our dominus.” Agron replied. “I was the one who should have protected him, I always protected him.”

Pollux reached across the table to lightly grasp Agron’s hand earnestly, “It was not your fault.”

“The only solace I have is I killed the fuck that did it.” Agron growled.

“An honour I did not have.” Pollux said.

They sat in silence for a moment, each lost in their own trauma. They were startled by Sibyl’s return, Agron snatching his hand away from Pollux reflexively, unsure why he felt caught. Pollux and Sibyl were both frowning, Sibyl at their clasped hands and Pollux at their sudden absence. There was a beat of silence before Agron pushed away from the table.

“Well, I should see to- well- there are things that need doing... that I should do... farewell.” Agron stuttered as he backed out of the room. 

In the corridor he picked up his pace and hurried away from the entire east wing, not eager to be caught by either Sibyl or Pollux. 

All of a sudden it was all too much, the darkness that threatened that morning caught up to him and he found himself turning his path towards his room instead of back to the atrium. 

Agron sank heavily onto the bed, feeling empty and numb. All he wanted was for Nasir to hold him together, to strip his itching armour from his body and to hold him tightly so he would not fall apart. Agron slumped over onto his side, staring blankly at the wall, his eyes feeling weary and his body heavy. His mind was empty as he drifted off.


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning Agron woke late and sluggish. If not for the fact it was late enough for the beam of light from their narrow window to fall upon his face, Agron may not have woke at all. His head felt underwater and his body weighed down. He blinked and willed himself to rise. The malaise that had settled on him the night before had not dissipated. 

Slowly he rose to a seated position, wanting nothing more than to return to sleep. It was days like today that Nasir would ease him into the day, teasing him and giving little kisses as rewards as they got ready. He would be firm with Agron when he had to be but seemed to always know when the older man needed to be coddled instead. 

Agron’s armour straps were itching and he longed for the strength in his hands to scratch at them. Agron used the heel of his hand to rub at the itch but it didn’t provide the same relief. He sighed to himself and poured some water in the wash basin with two hands, then plunged he face in, hoping to help shake off his dark feelings. He knew he should check in with Decima and the infirmary, the fever may have spread further. He should also start thinking about sending scouts into Sipontum to observe the docks and gain any information on arriving ships. Salvius would want a solution to their watch rotations as well. The list of things that required his attention was long and, in his current mood, seemed insurmountable. 

Agron was ready to sink back into his pallet when there was a scratch at the door.

“Come in.” He said, stifling another sigh.

Pollux slowly swung the door open, smiling and holding a tray of fruit.

“Good morning,” He said brightly, shutting the door behind him and sitting down next to Agron. “I noticed you were missing this morning and wanted to ensure you got breakfast.”

Pollux placed the tray between them and Agron noticed everything was portioned out to make eating it easier for him.

“Gratitude but you need not worry about me.” Agron said.

But it was closer to midday meal than breakfast so he carefully closed his fingers to pick up a grape. 

“It is no trouble.” Pollux said earnestly.

Agron did not have the energy to make conversation so they both sat in silence while he ate slowly. Pollux didn’t seem to mind, looking around the room with great interest. 

“How are your hands?” He asked.

That was the last thing Agron wanted to talk about, he looked down at them, still unwrapped. Where before he had been encouraged to see new skin appearing around the edges and the flex of the delicate bones and muscles, now all he could see were the huge, thick scabs that dominated the centre of his hands. 

“Decima says they are healing.” Agron replied, just wanting Pollux to leave so he could be alone. 

Pollux wouldn’t be dissuaded though. 

“If they are paining you I can accompany you today to help shoulder your burdens.”

If Agron wasn’t feeling so numb he might have smiled at the earnestness of this young Celt. Agron still wasn’t certain if he agreed with Nasir that Pollux was being attentive because of an attraction to Agron. After their talk about brothers yesterday, Agron felt a kinship. He and Duro had been closer than brothers, more as twins with little more than a year between them, and Pollux had lost his double, he felt the same canyon spanning the space of emptiness in his chest. 

“Gratitude but I will be fine, it is past time I rise to attend to my duties.” Agron forced himself to rise from his pallet.

Pollux rose as well, a small pout on his lips. 

“I will be fletching arrows in the courtyard if you have need of me.”

Agron just nodded and opened the door, gesturing for Pollux to precede him. They both split off in different directions, Agron towards the infirmary and Pollux, he assumed, to the courtyard. Agron sighed and began the process of steeling himself for the day. He pushed down his disquiet and tried to focus on the task at hand. When he felt like this everything seemed insurmountable so he had to focus on small steps or he would be paralyzed. If not for the need to appear strong in front of his people he would have gone back to bed until Nasir returned. 

He caught up with Decima in the hall outside the infirmary.

“Agron!” She said relieved. “I was about to send for you.”

“What is it?” Agron asked, the urgency in Decima’s voice helping sharpen his focus.

“The fever has spread and worsened.” Decima said. “We did not isolate the sick in time, the injured have taken on the illness. Tarbus had been delirious last night but this morning he has slipped into a sleep from which he will not waken.”

“How bad is it?” Agron asked, looking Decima up and down.

“I have been keeping those working in the infirmary away from the rest, Sibyl has been delivering meals. So far none of those working have worsened but the fever has spread through the injured faster than expected.”

Agron frowned, “Are any as bad as Tarbus?”

“The six original sick are delirious and in and out of consciousness; there are four wounded, including Tarbus, that have the fever but the rest seem to be holding steady.”

Agron looked closely at Decima, she looked worn out and she had a feverish shine to her eyes.

“And you?”

Decima looked surprised, “I am well, I am worried about Remei though. We have put her to bed with cool cloths, she was felt unstable standing and tending to the wounded.”

Remei was an older midwife, so, of Decima’s assistants, Agron wasn’t surprised it was her who fell to the fever. But from the looks of Decima, Remei wasn’t the only one suffering.

“What can be done?” Agron asked.

“When the hunt returns with more gentiane and silphium, that should help. But for other measures, we have done all we can to separate them and now we just let the fever run its course.” Decima shrugged helplessly. “If we cannot wake Tarbus he will likely be gone in a few days and others will follow.”

“What of the injured, have you been able to get some walking again?”

There were eighteen wounded who had been with Laeta, the worst cases who were unable to walk with the rest of the escaping rebels. The remaining six infirmary residents were older rebels who were sick with unknown ailments and who, in Agron’s opinion, would likely fall to the fever. 

“We had to amputate Marita’s leg. We sealed the wound with fire but the skin is hot to the touch and swollen. We have applied leeches but likely there is some sort of inflammation in the blood.” Decima explained. “Borja is on his feet but the bones in his arm have knitted together in such a way he will never use that arm again. They were too shattered to recover from.”

Decima couldn’t help looking at Agron’s own unwrapped hands at this.

“What have you done, here?” She scolded.

“I prefer them uncovered.” Agron shrugged, he felt the white bandages brought more attention than the dark scabs. 

Decima thought for a moment, “I suppose I can allow that, but take care that they do not catch on something and reopen.”

Agron nodded his agreement and made to walk further down the hallway to check on the patients but Decima stopped him with a hand, “You should not expose yourself, we do not know how it will effect the healthy and we do not want it to spread.”

Agron saw the logic in that but still felt like he should visit to lift some spirits. Spartacus used to visit the wounded after battles to remind them the cause they were fighting for and let them know their sacrifice was appreciated. Agron felt he should do the same. 

Agron nodded and added, “Get some rest, Decima.”

Decima made a non-committal noise and waved goodbye, ducking back into one of the rooms they had isolated the sick in the other day.

Agron sighed, the feeling of uselessness and inability to fix this layered on top of his dark mood and served to further weigh him down. He felt listless and unfocused. He knew there were tasks to be accomplished and he should show his face in the courtyard and atrium so no one would wonder at his day-long absence. Spartacus always said it was part of the role of a leader to be seen leading and that simple act would bolster confidence in the people being led. It was still difficult for Agron to get his feet moving in the direction of the atrium though. He promised himself he could disappear into a storeroom if he only made an appearance. 

He lingered in the tablinum and watched the people for a moment: a group of women darning clothes in the corner, gossiping and laughing; a few children chasing each other and splashing in the central pool; and others talking amongst themselves, filling the atrium with chatter. He still could not believe he was in charge of all these lives, of keeping them safe. The weight of that duty had not felt as heavy when it was shared with his brothers. 

With a deep breath, Agron entered the atrium, moving from group to group, saying a word here, listening to a complaint there. His actions were automatic, perfunctory, he was not sure how much comfort or aid he gave but he went through the motions. 

It took longer than he expected to extract himself and it required a pledge to eat something because it was decided he looked dead on his feet. His light breakfast was sitting heavy in his stomach so he did not stop by the kitchens as he promised on his way to the opposite side of the villa to check in with Salvius and those training. The majority of rebels left were women, no strangers to hard work but unaccustomed to the new requirement for every able bodied person to train with sword or bow. This meant that there was rarely the clang of practice swords ringing through the courtyard and Agron was more likely to come upon Dardanos leading them through the basic forms. Such was the case that afternoon, a group of six women were practising parrying in front of the Thracian, accompanied by 10-year old Rufus who had apparently managed to wheedle his way into the class. 

Agron should really spend more time watching these training sessions so he could have an accurate idea of the strength of his forces but he could not bring himself to, it was too painful a reminder. Unlike his scabs, the loss of his ability to fight was still fresh and raw. He also felt as if people focused more on his hands when he was in the courtyard, as if they were further reminded of his deficiency in comparison to those able bodied around him.

“Agron!” Salvius called him over to where he was overseeing Dardanos’s class.

“Salvius,” Agron greeted the other man. “How fares the training?”

Salvius leaned in so they wouldn’t be overheard, “You cannot expect much, it will take much more than a week of drills to make them warriors. As they are I would not put them in battle to be slaughtered.”

“We may have little choice.” Agron said grimly. 

“Let us hope it does not come to that.” Salvius replied. “What of our plans to sail for Dalmatia?”

Agron sighed, “We must have someone go to Sipontum to gain knowledge of the ships in port.”

Salvius caught on to the problem at once, “But we have a limited number in our ranks who could go and convincingly impersonate Romans.”

“Indeed,” Agron said. “I cannot go, nor Nasir with his dark complexion. No proper Roman woman would be roaming the docks asking questions.”

“I could take Dardanos.” Salvius offered. 

“Dardanos is a good man but I hold no faith in his discretion in this matter.” Agron said. “And with your limp, you may draw attention. No, we will need Septimus and Cato.”

Agron named two solid Romans, placed in slavery to settle numerous debts and freed by Spartacus in the rebels’ early raids on villas south of Capua.

“Good choices, well, the only choices.” Salvius agreed. “When will they go?”

“Tomorrow,” Agron said. “We should know the lay of the land before Nasir returns in case they bring tidings of Romans.”

“I just wish we had more time to regain our strength before we set off again.”

“We are not masters of our own destiny in this, the Romans dictate the pace and until we are free of them we must be one step ahead or fall to capture and ruin.”

Salvius nodded and turned his attention back to the training session, “They are making progress.”

“Let us hope it is enough for what lies ahead.”

Agron turned to go, wanting to hide himself away under the guise of re-checking the stores, but he noticed that those in the courtyard had paused what they were doing and were looking at him expectantly. He straightened up and turned back to the drilling rebels, Spartacus’s words, you must also be seen to lead, echoing in his head. 

“You will soon give the Romans cause to fear you.” He said approvingly, walking down the line to look at their technique.

He paused at Rufus, “You will be smaller than your opponent, you must adjust your block for a higher strike.”

Agron would have corrected the boy himself but he did not want to show he could not lift the boy’s arm to the right position. Rufus corrected himself, raising his sword up to block the imaginary downward strike. He noticed some of the smaller women down the line changing their form as well.

“Listen close to Salvius and Dardanos, they will forge you into warriors and in your place I will have a pack of wild Amazons.”

The women straightened their posture, looking determined to make Agron’s boast a reality. Agron could not help but feel buoyed by their fierce courage, though it was tempered by the reality that they were no where close to being ready to face trained legionnaires.

Drained, Agron felt he could finally retreat from sight and tend to his exhaustion, the effort of trying to be Spartacus had sapped what little energy he had that day. But it was not to be, Laeta appeared on the veranda and upon seeing Agron, waved to get his attention. Agron changed his path and headed for her.

“What is it, Laeta?’ Agron hoped his tone did not betray his sudden spike of annoyance that she could not resolve whatever it was on her own.

From the look on her face he was not successful.

“There are stores missing.” She said directly, ignoring Agron’s tone.

“What?” Agron asked, sharply.

“Sybil and I went to retrieve the last heads of cabbage that we counted yesterday but could not find them. I had a brief look at the other stores at it appears things are missing but I will have to do a full count to be sure.”

They could not afford stores to go missing, they had had little luck pilfering supplies during their flight from the banks of the Sele so rationing was strict. 

“We need a new count of stores and a guard must be set on the storeroom.” Agron frowned. “I do not see how someone could have cooked or eaten a large amount of food without being seen.”

“Perhaps it is hidden somewhere in the villa.” Laeta suggested.

“Where?” Agron asked skeptically. “Every space is occupied.”

“Regardless we must ensure it does not happen again.”

“Agreed.” Agron said. “Can you do the recount, I will break words with Salvius about the guard.”

Laeta turned to go when Agron stopped her.

“Keep this between us for now.” He said.

She nodded and headed off towards the store room. Agron turned around and retraced his steps back to Salvius. He wished Nasir was here to talk this over with. 

“Salvius.” He signalled the other man to join him a little ways from Dardanos and the others.

The ex-stable master looked at him quizzically but came straight over.

“What is it?” His tone was serious.

“We need to set a guard on the storeroom.” Agron cut to the chase.

“Why?” Salvius asked, surprised.

“Some food has been taken, Laeta is doing an inventory to ascertain how much.” Agron said grimly.

“What?” Salvius exclaimed. “Who would have done this?”

“I know not, but keep a keen eye on everything until we find them.”

“Of course.” Salvius cast a suspicious eye over the people in the courtyard. “And I will set a watch schedule.”

“Gratitude.”

Agron rubbed his face with the heels of his hands as he walked away, feeling even more tired. He was also chastising himself for not setting a guard earlier as had been routine when under Spartacus. It was just that their numbers had shrunk to the point that Agron thought all could be trusted to do what was best for the community. It wasn’t as if anyone was starving, there were still three meals a day, though they were small and the stew was sparse. But everyone knew the hunt was due back any day and there would be heartier rations to be had. 

Agron sighed, the why did not matter, he had to focus on preventing it from happening again and routing out the perpetrators. He had taken steps to accomplish the former but how he was going to do the latter was unclear. 

Agron was wandering the back corridors of the villa, hallways that were for the former slaves to go about their duties without being seen and were seldom used by the rebels who had the run of the compound now. He supposed he should check in with Laeta on the inventory and start to come up with a plan to find the thieves but the weight of leadership bore down on him hard today, his mental walls were weakened and the darkness that haunted him was smothering. He yearned for Nasir, the other man’s absence a nagging void. Agron wanted his counsel and his wisdom, his comfort and his strength. 

He passed by some occupied rooms, in them families sharing evening meal. Given the incident, it was no surprise that Agron scrutinized what was in their bowls, wondering if any of them were responsible. He nodded and gave tight smiles as he passed but did not slow his pace to talk. His feet took him back to his room while his thoughts were wandering and he decided to give in and skip evening meal to retire early. 

He opened his door and was startled by Pollux jumping to his feet from where he was sat on Agron and Nasir’s pallet. 

“Apologies!” Pollux said quickly. “I was waiting for you.”

Agron didn’t know what to say, just stood in the doorway, almost too tired to care why the other man was there. 

“I thought I could aid you, I noticed you scratching at your armour and came to help.” Pollux explained.

Agron thought about fighting Pollux’s eager assistance but found he would much rather be out of his armour and curled up around Nasir’s pillow and had no energy to resist. Pollux took his lack of response as acceptance and gently guided Agron into the room, shutting the door behind him. Agron let Pollux’s nimble fingers work his leather straps out of their buckles and ease the pieces off his body. Once he was left in his loose pants he sat down heavily on the bed. 

“Gratitude.” Agron said.

“Is there anything else I can do for you?” Pollux asked, lingering at the door. 

“No, gratitude for your concern.” 

Pollux had barely closed the door when Agron slumped on to his stomach and buried his face into Nasir’s pillow.


	5. Chapter 5

The next morning Agron was awakened by a gentle kiss to his forehead.

“It is time to wake, my love.” Nasir said softly, coaxing Agron from his slumber.

“Nasir?” 

Agron was on the edge of waking and wasn’t sure if he still dreamt. He opened his eyes and saw his lover kneeling beside their pallet and felt Nasir softly stroking his hair. 

“Nasir!”

His spirits lifted at the sight of Nasir and he wrapped his arms around the other man and pulled him down into bed. 

Nasir laughed and let himself be pulled, “I suppose this means you missed me.”

“Your absence was felt keenly.” Agron buried his face in Nasir’s hair and breathed deeply. “I am not whole without you by my side.”

Nasir looked surprised at the vehemency in Agron’s voice but did not comment, just stroked Agron’s face, seemingly content to gaze at the other man. 

Agron’s face clouded over, “Much has occurred in your absence.”

“I know,” Nasir said soothingly. “I saw the guard and broke words with Laeta as we filled the storeroom.”

“I know not what to do.” Agron admitted.

“Hush.” Nasir said. “Let us have a moment before duties crowd in. I too have missed you.”

Nasir leaned in and their lips met, soft at first but deepening as they fell into each other. Nasir climbed on top of Agron and ran his hands all over his bare chest, scratching over his abs on his way to palm Agron’s cock through his pants. Agron moaned, wishing he could grab Nasir and grind against him. He settled instead for dominating the kiss, his wrist locked behind Nasir’s neck, holding him in place. Agron could never get enough of the smaller man, when he was beside him Agron felt he could do anything. Nasir was the bright light that kept Agron’s darkness at bay.

“Agron.” Nasir murmured against Agron’s lips. 

Agron wouldn’t let him pull back, instead licking into the other man’s mouth.

Nasir abandoned whatever he was going to say and sunk back into the kiss. He allowed Agron to roll him on to his back, his clever fingers working down Agron’s pants and freeing his hard cock. Agron shifted his attentions to Nasir’s neck, kissing his way down to his collarbone and licking his way across to bite Nasir’s other shoulder. 

Nasir freed himself from his own clothes and grasped both their cocks in his hand. He could barely hold them so he added a second hand to help him stroke up and down their lengths, his fingers interlaced. The friction caused Agron to bite deeper into Nasir’s skin and the Syrian hissed until Agron apologized with soft butterfly kisses up his neck and back to his mouth. They panted into each others’ mouths, kiss aggressive, teeth clacking against each other as Nasir’s hands sped up, way made slick by the addition of Nasir’s spit. 

“Nasir.” Agron groaned, biting down on Nasir’s lip, arms wrapped tightly around the other man.

Nasir sealed their mouths together, his grip on their cocks tightening with every twist of his fists. Agron was nearing the peak of his pleasure, fighting the urge to ball his hands into fists. He came with a groan, spilling over Nasir’s fists and onto his stomach. Nasir was close behind him, breaking away from Agron’s lips to bury his face in the crook of Agron’s neck.

Agron collapsed onto Nasir, boneless in his post orgasm haze. Nasir accepted his weight and stroked his hands up and down Agron’s back.

“I love you.” Nasir said, kissing the top of Agron’s head which was pillowed on Nasir’s chest.

Agron raised his head to look Nasir in the eye and say fervently, “I love you.”

Nasir kissed the tip of his nose, “We must meet with Laeta and Salvius.”

Agron groaned and buried his face back into Nasir’s chest. 

“Up, my love.” Nasir jostled Agron a little.

Agron grumbled to himself but rolled off Nasir to allow the other man to get up. Nasir laughed at Agron as he stubbornly settled back into the pillows. Nasir wet a cloth and cleaned himself off, tossing it onto Agron’s stomach when he had finished.

“Up!” He admonished as he straightened his clothes.

Agron was cleaning himself up while Nasir put his armour on the bed.

“Did Laeta aid you in undressing?” He asked, taking the cloth back from Agron and tossing it into the small pile for laundering.

Agron froze getting out of bed, Nasir’s back was turned as he poured a cup of water.

“Hmm?” Agron said to buy time.

He had not thought of anything other than wanting his armour off and to go to sleep the night before. He certainly had not thought what it would look like if someone were to find out Pollux undressed him. Nor had he thought Nasir would be back so soon, he must have pressed the group hard to return so quickly. 

“It makes me glad to see that you are beginning to trust her more,” Nasir continued, turning and leaning against their table. “Spartacus knew the true heart of people and he trusted her.”

Agron cleared his throat and said, “It was not Laeta.”

“Salvius?” Nasir asked, surprised. “I did not expect-”

“No,” Agron cut him off then took a deep breath and continued, “Pollux aided me.”

Nasir put his cup down, hard, on the table, “I beg your pardon?”

Agron rose to his feet, feeling he needed to be on equal footing with Nasir for this conversation.

“Pollux was here waiting for me and offered to help, I did not ask for him.” Agron explained carefully.

“He was here,” Nasir said softly. “In our room?”

Agron reached out for Nasir who gave a sharp gesture for him to stop it so he retreated back a step.

“Only for a moment.” Agron assured him.

“I told you I do not like him.” Nasir’s gaze was stony.

“I did not invite him here!” Agron protested.

“But you did not send him away!” Nasir snapped. “And you let his hands roam your body and strip you to your skin. Tell me, Agron, did you let him suck your cock? Or did he only stroke you? Were you imagining his hand in place of mine just now?”

“What??” Nasir’s outburst took Agron by surprise. “Of course not! Nasir, please!”

“I was gone for not but two days.” Nasir hissed angrily.

“Nothing occurred!” Agron assured him desperately. “I did not think-”

“No, you did not.” Nasir said, pushing past Agron and slamming the door behind him.

“Nasir!”

Agron did not understand how that had gotten so out of hand. Once Nasir had asked the question Agron knew that he would be angry about Pollux but he did not anticipate the other man’s crude assumptions about Agron’s supposed infidelity. Agron did not know what to do, Spartacus would have known – even Gannicus would have known – but Agron was not one for expressing himself with words, he always seemed to say the wrong things in delicate situations.

He started after Nasir but hesitated at the door, looking back at his armour still lying on the bed. He felt naked without it but he wasn’t going to wait here for Nasir to come back and help him – if Nasir came back at all. Agron left the room, stopping outside to try and guess which way Nasir had gone. As he was deciding, he saw Pollux turn the corner and head down the short corridor towards him with a bright smile. 

“Good morning, Agron,” Pollux greeted him. “I have come to help you dress.”

“Go about your duties!” Agron said sharply and Pollux pulled up short in surprise. 

The crushed look on the other man’s face moved Agron but he did not allow himself to soften the blow, he would figure out how to talk to Pollux later – Nasir was his priority.

Agron turned and headed in the opposite direction of the young Celt, towards the back of the villa and the courtyard. Perhaps Nasir had gone to work off some of his anger with Salvius and Dardanos. He hurried along the back corridors, not wanting to be waylaid by anyone. When he arrived at the dusty courtyard there was only Salvius setting up for the day of training, it still being too early for people to be about their daily assignments. 

“Salvius,” Agron called. “Have you seen Nasir?”

“Nasir? Are they back from the hunt already?” Salvius asked but Agron had already turned to go, heading towards the kitchen where he hoped to find Nasir and Laeta; Laeta would help diffuse the Syrian’s anger. 

Agron heard Salvius call after him but he was on a mission, he would make Nasir understand that Pollux only meant to be helpful and that he was nothing to Agron but another rebel under his care. But, ultimately, Agron knew he was willing to do anything the other man wanted to reassure him of Agron’s fidelity. He felt like a drowning man about to slip beneath the waves of despair. Where he may have been angry and stubborn had such a situation occurred in the past, Agron was instead desperate to prove himself to Nasir; his darkness circling and taunting him with visions of a future without the other man. 

He passed rebels who had collected their first meal of the day and were settling into groups to talk and eat but he did not see or hear their greetings. His nearly bowled into Laeta who was leaving the storeroom.

“Agron!” She exclaimed, jumping out of the way. 

“Have you seen Nasir?” He demanded. 

Laeta frowned at him, “Yes, he is within.”

She gestured towards the door she just came through.

“He told you.” Agron made it a statement.

Laeta gave a meaningful look at the guard and shepherded Agron into the empty storeroom across the hall. 

“He is very angry.” Laeta said. 

“He has no reason!”

Laeta raised an eyebrow at him.

“He flew into a passion without thought to hear explanation.”

“I seem to recall you behaving worse with less provocation.” She reminded him. 

Agron was properly chastised by that and Laeta continued.

“Both of you are passionate men, prone to heightened tempers and jealousy. Do not attempt to argue!” Laeta cut off Agron’s attempt to speak. “Nasir is behaving better than you would in the same situation and you know it.”

Agron felt ashamed, he knew he would have torn apart the man who undressed Nasir, injured hands or not. He should have thought of Nasir instead of his own selfish desires. He had been missing Nasir but acted without thought for the other man. Laeta let him grapple with his thoughts in silence, arms crossed waiting for him to come to his senses. 

“Gratitude.” Agron said finally. “You give wise counsel.”

“Now you must speak with Nasir because we must discuss yesterday’s events.” Laeta said grimly. “And look to plans for the future.”

Agron followed her back into the hallway and took a deep breath before opening the other storeroom and slipping inside. Nasir was angrily moving chests around the room, grunting a little with the effort before throwing down his burden in the opposite corner. 

“Nasir.” Agron said softly and the other man’s back stiffened but he didn’t turn. “Nasir, love, please.”

Nasir turned around and crossed his arms, giving Agron a stony look.

“Apologies,” Agron said, taking cautious steps towards the other man. “I behaved thoughtlessly.”

Nasir said nothing.

“I understand why you are angry with me but I need you to know that I belong to you, full body and soul.” Agron reached out and took his hand, which Nasir allowed. “No god nor man could come between us.”

“I told you I did not care for Pollux’s wiles nor his designs upon you.” Nasir said angrily. “You allowed him to touch what is mine.”

Agron held Nasir’s hand to his heart, hands awkwardly clasping Nasir’s, “I am yours and I apologize, the boy means nothing to me.”

Agron wisely decided now was not the time to push the argument that Pollux was harmless.

“It was only for the fact that my armour itched that I let him aid me. I do not think of him as anything but another rebel, and for that reason that I did not see how it would effect you.”

If he wasn’t watching closely, he would not have seen the small softening in Nasir’s look.

“Please.” Agron said softly, pressing his lips to the back of Nasir’s hand, kissing each knuckle. “Forgive me. You once said you would believe me no matter what.”

“Never again.” Nasir said sternly.

“Never.” Agron echoed fiercely.

Nasir reached out and grabbed Agron by the back of the neck and pulled him in for a bruising kiss. Agron let Nasir dominate, bending down to give him more access. Nasir was not going to soften his approach, their teeth clacked and Nasir pushed Agron back onto a chest behind him, forcing him to sit and climbed on to his lap.

This was going differently than Agron expected but he let Nasir work his anger out on his body, the smaller man’s hands pulling Agron’s hair painfully back so he could latch onto his throat and bite and suck a brand into Agron’s skin. Nasir normally wasn’t one to mark, Agron was more likely to leave mouth shaped bruises on Nasir’s inner thighs, but Agron understood his need to reinforce his claim and submitted. Nasir’s teeth on his neck were more bruising and sharp than pleasurable but Agron didn’t complain, he held Nasir tightly with his forearms locked behind the other man’s back and allowed Nasir to work out his anger on Agron’s skin.

When Nasir pulled back Agron’s skin was raw and bruising already. Nasir sat back on Agron’s thighs and looked down at him, panting slightly, mouth red.

“To remind you.” He said.

“I need no reminder of you, your name is written on my heart.” Agron said. “But I will gladly wear your mark.”

Nasir looked at him a moment longer before climbing off his lap.

“We must find Laeta and Salvius and discuss our supply problem.” He said, opening the door and leaving Agron alone in the storeroom.

Agron did not follow him immediately, sinking back down to sit on the chest. His neck hurt, the skin raw in the open air, and he did not think for a moment Nasir was done with this but he was right, there were other priorities right now. He sighed and tried to ignore the feeling of being undressed caused by his lack of armour and followed Nasir into the hall. 

Nasir and Laeta were talking quietly a little ways up the corridor, far enough to keep the guard from over hearing. Agron joined them and caught Laeta eyeing his purpling bruise.

“Should we move this to the courtyard so we can include Salvius?” He suggested.

Nasir and Laeta concurred and they hurried towards the other side of the villa. Laeta was smiling and greeting people along the way but Agron’s expression kept anyone from calling out to him; Nasir was silent as well. They arrived in the courtyard and Salvius started towards them immediately.

“Left me standing here without a word this morning, so eager he was to get to you.” Salvius said to Nasir jovially, obviously spotting what he interpreted as a love bite.

Agron winced, but Nasir just gave a tight smile and said, “We must break words on the past day’s events.”

“And you must give your scouting report.” Laeta reminded.

“We pushed hard past Sipontum and looped around south of Aufidena the first day.” Nasir began.

“So far in one day?” Salvius asked, surprised.

“We wished to return swiftly.” Nasir answered shortly, not making eye contact with Agron. “We saw no increased Roman presence in Salapia or Aufindena. Verzina and Tascilla did hear rumours of a centuriae in upon the Traiana Way near Herdoniae so we changed our path home to include Herdoniae.”

“Did you find them?” Agron asked, tense.

“No, it had been a clutch of Roman soldiers passing through from Neapolis nearly a fortnight past. They were carrying word of the campaign for Bithynia. The _venerable_ Marcus Aureilus Cotta found himself more than matched by the Mithridates and was routed near Chalcedon.”

Salvius and Agron shared vicious grins, any loss the Romans suffered was to be celebrated.

“We left Herdoniae near midday and hunted as we got closer to the villa. We brought in but a slim haul that troubles more now that I have heard of our supply woes.” Nasir said grimly.

“What are we going to do about that?” Salvius asked, looking to Agron.

“I do not see what we can do.” Laeta said. “We are not going to interrogate everyone and I have no suspicions as to who may have been responsible.”

“Agreed.” Nasir said. “We cannot allow this to spread beyond us.”

“I fear the only thing we can do is prevent it from happening again.” Agron could see no other path.

“But who could have done it?” Salvius asked. “I have not heard any rumblings about the rationing.”

Laeta made a noise in agreement and Nasir nodded.

“All the more reason we must send Septimus and Cato to Sipontum today.” Agron said. “We must move soon now that we have an enemy within.”

“Agreed.” Nasir said.

“I must see Decima, we may have a hard decision to make.” Agron said grimly.

“What do you mean?” Laeta asked.

“The fever.” Nasir said, understanding. “Three days aboard a ship and we will all have it.”

“What are we going to do?” Laeta asked, still not following the thread to its conclusion.

“We must decide if we risk including them in the journey.” Salvius explained.

“We cannot leave them!” Laeta said, indignant. “Without care they will die!”

“We may have to.” Agron’s expression was drawn and serious.

“Spartacus would never-” Laeta began.

“Spartacus is not here.” Agron hissed, conscious of the curious rebels lingering nearby.

Laeta looked stricken and Agron felt guilty but pressed on, “We must save as many as we can and that may mean leaving some to save many times their number.”

Laeta said nothing which Agron took for begrudging agreement. People were beginning to fill the courtyard, some there to train with Salvius, others seeking space to do their chores, small groups of mostly women mending clothing, fletching arrows and fixing pieces of armour. It was time to find Cato and Septimus.

“Nasir, will you come with me to seek out our scouts?” Agron asked, genuinely uncertain of his response. 

“Of course.” Nasir seemed to be looking over Agron’s shoulder rather than at Agron himself but he would take it.

“I will seek you both out after I break words with Decima.” Agron told Laeta and Salvius.

As he and Nasir stepped onto the veranda to re-enter the villa, Nasir stopped him.

“Would you like to put your armour on first?” He asked and Agron’s heart soared, Nasir’s kindness knew no bounds.

“Yes, gratitude.” He replied, giving Nasir a full dimpled smile.

Nasir nodded and led the way down the corridors to their small room. Agron’s armour was still on the bed where Nasir had placed it before their fight. Nasir set to strapping the leather and iron pieces onto Agron.

“Nasir.” Agron said cautiously.

“I do not wish to break any more words on the subject.” The other man said firmly, not meting Agron’s eyes.

“Nasir-” Agron began again.

“No!” Nasir snapped, pulling Agron’s arm brace a buckle-hole too tight. “I said I do not wish to discuss it.”

Agron lapsed into silence and Nasir knelt to replace the soft, indoor socci that Agron had slipped on to follow him with Agron’s usual sandals, the ties winding up his calf. And if Nasir tied them a little tighter than normal, Agron could not blame him.

“Do you think Septimus and Cato are capable of accomplishing this mission?” Nasir asked, filling the long silence and standing.

“They must be, who else could we send?” Agron shrugged.

Nasir hmm-ed but did not say anything. 

“Cato will be in the atrium trying to garner Belesa’s attention.” Agron gave a small laugh. “And Septimus may be yet at morning meal.”

Septimus had an insatiable hunger and would linger to sweet talk those on cooking duty to spoon him out extra food. Cato had been pursuing the Thracian woman since he joined the rebels and it was well-known he believed his odds of success had improved with the loss of nearly every other male rebel. 

“Shall I get the robes and meet you in the atrium?” Nasir asked.

“Agreed, ensure you select nothing too rich.” Agron reminded.

“I know.” Nasir said crossly and Agron cursed himself for putting his foot in his mouth.

Before he could apologize, Nasir slipped from the room heading, Agron assumed, for the dominus of this villa’s clothing chest. Agron sighed and walked the path to the kitchens for the second time this morning.

He found Septimus as expected, flirting with the cooks. Sibyl was there and she was laughing, a rare sight, one that Agron had never seen before. The girl always seemed so serious, a silent slip of a shadow that trailed behind Gannicus. 

“Septimus.” Agron called from the doorway.

“Agron!” Septimus said with a small guilty smile. “I was just ensuring these ladies did not need assistance.”

“Yes,” One of the women said sarcastically. “Septimus was assisting us with storing the remaining porridge by offering to put it in his stomach.”

The other women laughed and Agron smiled; Septimus was goodnatured and chuckled along.

“I must draw you from this task, that is if these lovely ladies can spare you.” Agron said.

“Take him!” They all said at once, bursting into laughter at their synchronization.

“I am going, I am going.” Septimus said, laughing and following Agron out of the room.

He caught up with Agron and fell into step beside him, “So what is the task?”

“You and Cato must go into Sipontum and observe the array of vessels.” Agron said bluntly. 

Septimus stumbled a step and recovered, “But we are old men!”

Agron laughed, “If you have fifty grey hairs between you I am a goat.”

“We have only lately come to the sword!” Septimus protested further.

“This is not a mission that requires swords, you shall blend in.” Agron explained as they arrived in the atrium.

Agron spotted Cato who had apparently waylaid Belesa on her way from the well, a full bucket of water sitting at her feet while she listened to Cato with an exasperated but indulgent look on her face. 

“Cato.” Agron said, spooking the other man who slipped from his position leaning with affected casualness against a pillar. 

“Agron!” Cato said, recovering. “You startled me.”

“Leave Belesa to her work, I have a task for you.” Agron gestured for him to follow.

Cato bid an over the top adieu to Belesa and joined Septimus and Agron as Nasir arrived bearing a bundle of clothing under his arm.

“Shall we take this outside?” Nasir asked and Agron nodded, leading them out of the villas walls and a ways away from the sentry on guard.

“What is going on?” Cato asked, confused.

“They want us to go into Sipontum.” Septimus preempted Nasir and Agron’s explanations.

Cato’s eyebrows shot up, “Alone??”

“Yes!” Septimus replied and Agron shot him a glare.

“We need information about what ships are available.” Agron explained.

“Are we leaving?” Cato interrupted.

“Soon.” Agron confirmed. “We cannot afford to linger.”

Salvius and Cato exchanged worried looks.

“This is an important assignment.” Nasir said, giving Agron a sly look before he seemed to remember himself and looked away.

Cato had been asking to be included in something “more important that scrubbing pots” for some time. Agron and Nasir suspected it was to impress Belesa, to show he was a strong warrior as Gannicus had been or some such nonsense. 

“Yes,” Agron agreed. “We are placing much trust in you two.”

Cato straightened at this and Septimus looked at him, incredulous, “They pull your strings like a puppet!”

“What must we do?” Cato asked seriously and Septimus threw his hands up in exasperation. 

“We must know the count of ships and their timetables. We need a vessel with oars and square sails, something that is due to leave within the week, a galley large enough to carry all of us.” Agron thought the requirements out loud.

Square sails were the easiest to use, Nasir had told him that when they first began discussing taking to the sea. Agron chose to suppress the anger that accompanied the thought of where Nasir gained such knowledge. But once they joined up with the rest of the rebels, oars would power them across the sea. Neither of them trusted Nasir sketchy knowledge of sailing to take them over even the narrow stretch of water they planned to cross. A ship planning to sail would be provisioned, which would solve their problem of scant stores. 

“Take note of guards and scout a route that will take a clutch of us to ship without encountering them.” Nasir added.

“How many?” Septimus asked, apparently resigned to his fate.

“Perhaps a dozen.” Agron said, they would not be able to bring more, even 12 might be pushing their luck. “See if you can gain access to one of the storehouses, we will need to conceal half our number while the others take the ship.”

Six would be few enough to take the ship and not draw attention but they would need 12 to sail the thing.

“When do we leave?” Cato asked.

“Now.” Nasir replied, shaking out two sets of robes and capes and handing them to the two men. 

Agron knew they were in full view of the sentry and gossip would spread but the scouting mission would be known throughout the rebels soon enough anyways so Agron did not let it trouble him. Cato and Septimus were exchanging their ragged clothes for the richer fabrics of the Roman robes. 

“I will leave these inside the gate.” Nasir said, collecting the raggedy pile.

“Gods be with us.” Septimus said fatalistically. 

“We will return as quickly as possible.” Cato pledged.

“Take care you are not followed.” Agron warned.

Cato and Septimus both nodded, looked at each other and set off south towards Sipontum. 

“Luck favour them.” Nasir said sincerely. 

“Luck favour us all.” Agron said, watching them go.

They both stood for a moment, watching the pair until the disappeared into the trees. 

“I must go to Decima.” Agron said, reluctant to leave Nasir with so much unsettled between them.

“I will to Laeta to discuss the week’s meals.” Nasir replied, turning to go.

“Nasir.” Agron touched his shoulder. “I cannot bear this distance between us.”

“Agron,” Nasir sighed. “I must have time, you too required such of me once.”

Agron blushed at the remembrance of his behaviour towards Nasir after his discovery of Nasir and Castus together.

“And as I did not have cause to worry then, nor do you have cause to worry now.” Agron pleaded. 

Nasir gave a small, rueful smile, “Time, Agron.”

Agron raised his hands in acquiescence. 

“See to the sick, I will see to the stores.” Nasir said and Agron fell to task.

Agron arrived in the corridor, uncertain of which door to open.

He settled for calling out for the medica, “Decima!”

The third door on the right opened at his call and the small woman bustled out, wiping her hands on a cloth.

“Agron.” She greeted him but she looked worn down.

“Good news?” Agron asked.

“No,” Her face became serious. “Tarbus will not wake, heartbeat slows and breath is weak.”

“And the rest?” Agron thought he knew the answer.

“Four join him in an endless sleep, the rest are unchanged, in and out of wakefulness.” Decima said.

“Those in constant sleep are slowly dying of lack of water and food,” She gestured helplessly. “And the others, the fever burns through their organs and they convulse, a bubbling froth to emitting from their mouths.”

Agron frowned but had no solution to offer her.

“Is there more?” He asked.

“Remei worsens, we have placed her with the patients.” Decima sounded exhausted. “Marita is in much pain, her blood boils in her leg and we cannot cool it, the skin feels as if it is on fire and she has lost sense, shrieking and moaning at nothing.”

“Did your assistant get the herbs you needed while with Nasir?” Agron hoped for that at least.

“Only some, there was little time to forage deep into the woods.” Decima sighed. “But we shall make due.”

“You are a female Asclepius, a goddess of healing.” Agron said, meaning every word.

“Would that I had the power.” Decima said, sadly.

Agron hesitated, he wasn’t sure if he should mention their impending move but decided Decima could be trusted for discretion.

“If we were to move within the next few days, how would we stand with those in the infirmary?” He asked.

“So soon?” Decima asked, surprised.

“We must get to the safety of Dalmatia, I will not have you all put to the cross as the Romans will do to us if we linger here.” Agron said.

“Six of the wounded are mobile, the rest will have to be borne on stretchers. But what of those stricken with the fever?” She asked as the implications of being confined on a ship suddenly hit her.

“I do not know.” Agron admitted. “I cannot risk the lives of everyone else but how can I leave the sick and condemn those souls to Roman swords?”

“We could isolate them in the captains quarters.” Decima suggested.

“It would not be enough and we must transport them a ways to get to the ship, people would be exposed.” Agron’s frown deepened. “Think on it, I will return.”

“We may only need to wait a few days for our problem to be resolved.” Decima said, catching him before he left.

“I do not follow your meaning.” Agron said, confused.

“Tarbus and the others are dying.” Decima said. “Tullia has seen such a fever and tended to those stricken; she says that after the convulsions, the sick have mere days to live.”

“There is nothing to be done?” Agron asked.

“Nothing within my powers.” Decima said.”It is in the gods hands.”

“Then we shall see what fate has for us.” Agron said. “I leave to finalize plans, I will inform you when we mean to leave so you can start preparations.”

“I will start now with the amalgamation of supplies.” She said, mind obviously already elsewhere as she turned and bustled back down the hallway.

Agron should update the others but he was conscious of his rumbling stomach, having skipped morning meal. Nasir and Laeta should still be in the storerooms so perhaps he could kill two birds with one stone. The infirmary had been moved further from the kitchens, sacrificing the warmth in favour of isolation so Agron had to head back to the junction of corridors and selected another hallway to return to the storerooms and the kitchen.

Sibyl was in the kitchen with the same women from that morning, all of them hard at work preparing the midday meal.

“I wondered if you would be seeking nourishment anytime soon.” Sibyl remarked with a smile when she spotted Agron.

“Perhaps just some bread and cheese.” Agron asked, noting that the meat Nasir had brought back appeared to be still cooking suspended above the fire and that the turnips and other vegetables were only now being added to the large stew pot.

“Nonsense.” Said one of the women, an older, motherly woman who Agron could not name at the moment. “We managed to keep this from Salvius this morning.”

She produced a bowl of porridge, now room temperature and less appealing than the bread and cheese but the intention was sincere so Agron accepted the bowl with two hands and a grateful smile. 

“Gratitude.” He said. “Do you know where Nasir and Laeta are?”

“Second storeroom.” Sibyl said from her position stirring the large cauldron of stew. 

“Why has there been a guard placed on the stores?” One of the women asked as Agron turned to go.

“Preparation for when we are again on the road where we shall require sentries..” Agron said as if it was of no consequence.

Sibyl frowned as if she could sense Agron’s deception but she stayed silent. Agron paused for a moment longer but when none of the women raised anything else, he turned to find Nasir and Laeta.

They appeared to be quarrelling about how much should be carried with them. Nasir was for continuing rationing to be able to bring as much as they could carry along for the ship journey. Laeta favoured feeding the rebels well to build strength for the journey and to count on supplies being aboard the ship they were to steal. Each one’s position dictated by their experiences, Nasir having been profoundly hungry knew the importance of conservation whereas Laeta still did not understand scarcity for all her time among them. 

“Agron!” Laeta spotted him lingering at the doorway. “Come in, and sit. You must make decision.”

Agron sat down on the edge of a large chest, balancing his bowl on his knee, and looked warily between the two of them. He saw merits in each approach but given the state of the rebels’ health he was inclined to gamble on Laeta’s plan. They needed to recuperate strength from their flight from the Romans and he was confident they would be able to find a ship that was loaded with supplies. He awkwardly clutched his spoon and took a mouthful of porridge, mulling over the issue.

“We must build strength for the journey.” Laeta insisted.

“And what will we do when stores run out while at sea?” Nasir said with an exasperated tone.

“Peace.” Agron said, putting his spoon down. “We will take enough for two days.”

Nasir made to argue but Agron continued, “Added to the stores aboard the ship we should be provisioned for the sea journey and for at least two days when we arrive in Salona.”

“And what shall we do then?” Nasir asked. 

“We have some remaining coin.” Laeta said.

“Enough to feed all?” Nasir knew the answer and Laeta frowned at him.

“We have known lean times.” Agron reminded him. “And there are some risks we must take.”

Nasir did not respond but Agron could tell he was angry. 

“We will make final choice when Cato and Septimus return with report.” Agron said, attempting to appease. 

They both nodded, Nasir begrudgingly.

“Have you finished an accounting of what was taken?” Agron asked.

“We will finish by the time our scouts return.” Nasir said, looking at Laeta for confirmation, disagreement put aside.

Laeta nodded, “However, it is already more than expected. There must have been more than one to take so much at once.”

Agron scowled, he wished he could divine the responsible parties so that punishment could be meted out. The betrayal of the group when they had come so far and gone through so much was unforgivable to him.

“I am made uneasy by this enemy hidden in our midst.” Laeta admitted.

Nasir gave a noise of agreement, his own face wrinkled in a frown.

“We must maintain constant vigilance, we may yet uncover the fiends.” Agron said. 

“Agreed.” Nasir said and Laeta nodded. “What of Decima and the sick?”

“More fall to the fever, Decima does not hold much hope for the sickest to recover.” Agron said grimly. 

“What does she say to our imminent departure and movement of the injured?” Nasir asked.

“Only six are able to walk. The remaining will have to be borne on stretchers.” Agron reported. “The best we can do to isolate the sick is separate them in the captain’s quarters but that will likely not stop the spread of the fever.”

Laeta frowned at Agron, “I will not agree to leave them.”

“As with the supplies, much will depend on when we can find a ship to bear us towards Dalmatia.” Agron did not wish to argue the point until they had more concrete plans. “I shall leave you to your tasks, we shall convene again when Cato and Septimus return.”

Agron left them but was then at a loss of what to occupy himself with. He could make no further plans until they had news from Sipontum and with Nasir helping Laeta, he had no pressing tasks. He walked back to their room, determined to work his hands harder than usual to prepare for the battle to come. 

Agron took his time to slowly work through his exercises, pushing each hand to the point of pain and exhaustion. He gazed down at the healing skin peeking out from underneath the thick scabs, hopefully they were healed enough to allow him to take the ship. Agron pressed two of his fingers into the centre of the scab on his left palm. It didn’t bend or crack as he applied more pressure, ignoring the spike of pain. He could faintly feel his heartbeat in his palm.

Agron had not looked this closely at his hands since they were maimed. He watched them when he exercised them but he had not examined them. He felt over the uneven landscape of the scab, the dark purplish brown shaped in a near perfect circle, small in comparison to all the hardship it caused. He traced over the lines of his palm, all severed by the dark blight in the centre. 

He flipped his hand over to examine the back. The scabbed exit wound rose in a thick mound above his skin. The nail had been driven straight through the delicate bone leading to his middle finger, shattering it. Some of the fragments must have been able to knit together since his crucifixion though because Agron could, with great effort, bend his middle finger slightly towards his palm. The skin beneath itched and Agron had the sudden urge to rip the scab off his hand. He pulled his other hand away sharply, suppressing the feeling.

He stopped his inspection and rose to his feet, sighing. He owed Salvius an update on the stores and the status of those in the infirmary. Agron left the comforting isolation of his room and headed to the courtyard and Salvius.

When Agron arrived there, the first person he saw was Pollux. Dardanos had their small fleet of archers practising shooting in volleys under a command. They had cleared the garden and were sending waves of arrows raining down on the remaining shrubbery. Their backs were to Agron but Pollux’s slim frame and golden hair were hard to mistake. 

“Agron!” Salvius called from where he was drilling four rebels with swords. 

Pollux turned at the sound of Agron’s name and made eye contact with Agron, face clearly showing his hurt from their earlier interaction. Agron quickly glanced away and joined Salvius.

“Pair and run through overhead blocks.” Salvius instructed his small band.

He hustled Agron aside, eager to hear his update.

“News from the infirmary is grim.” Agron cut to the chase. “More fall into deep sleep, seemingly not to wake. Decima thinks we will lose half those stricken with fever.”

Salvius’s mouth was set in a tight frown as he absorbed this news.

“There is more.” Agron said. “Laeta suspects a conspiracy in regards to the stores.”

“A conspiracy?” Salvius was surprised.

“Too much is missing to be accounted for by one thief.” Agron confirmed.

“Our situation grows darker.” Salvius’s tone was bleak.

“We shall soon see ourselves free of these lands and light will fall on us again.” 

Agron did not know if he believed it but he had to say it. Spartacus never showed doubt, his certainty a rock for all to anchor themselves to, and Agron sought to emulate his fallen brother. Only Nasir could be privy to Agron’s private fears, outside their small room he must appear confident in all things.

“Gods see it so.” Salvius said fervently.

“How fares training?” Agron asked, changing the subject.

Salvius gave a half shrug, “Dardanos and I do what we can but they are not warriors.”

Agron frowned, “None show potential?”

“Potential we have in abundance, time to hone it to deadly intent is what we lack.” Salvius turned from observing those sparring to watch the archers reloading under Dardanos’s command. 

“Bowmen we have though.” Salvius continued. “Those Mira trained have passed on their skills to the others. We may get four volleys off before they are overrun in combat. I pray four is enough.”

“I pray we do not have to find out.” Agron replied.

He turned from watching the archers, ignoring the twinge of guilt that he was the cause of the tight set of Pollux’s shoulders, to observe the two sparring pairs. One of their number was Rufus. He was squaring off with Vezina who had been a scout in Nasir’s hunting party. A diminutive ex-concubine whose lithe body had long given over to hardened muscle, she was not new to the sword and was coaching the young boy. Her height made her well suited to give instruction for his smaller frame. Similarly, Tascilla, Vezina’s scouting partner, was educating Aeliana who must have handed her child off to the care of one of the other mothers, her usually kind and open face frowning in concentration.

Agron longed to train again, it was past time he ask Nasir to fabricate him another weapon. Agron watched Rufus put all his weight into his chopping swings that were being patiently turned aside by Vezina. It brought to mind Duro, who always put too much into his attacks, leaving him off balance.

“You must temper attacks.” 

Agron’s intervention in Vezina’s training session brought the other pair to a halt as well and attracted the eyes of many of those in the courtyard. 

Rufus frowned, disagreeing, “For what cause?”

Agron walked around to stand beside Rufus, facing Vezina.

“Attack again.” He instructed the boy.

Rufus straightened his posture under Agron’s attention and he let out a short bellow before launching an attack at Vezina who turned it easily. Agron watched for Rufus to hit the full extension of his reach, all his weight solidly on his front foot. Before he could reset his centre of balance Agron checked the boy with his forearm and knocked him to the dirt.

“For that cause.” Agron said.

Rufus looked embarrassed but Agron had learned the same lesson the same way as a young man and had taught Duro the same. He reached down and offered Rufus his forearm to help him up and the boy took it.

“You will always be weaker than your opponent,” Rufus frowned at that but Agron continued. “It will be some years before you are of stature to overpower a fully armoured legionnaire so you must be more clever.”

“How?” Rufus looked determined to master whatever it was.

“Vezina, Dardanos.” Agron gestured for the two to face off, the latter having stopped archery practice to watch Agron give instruction.

Agron had not spent anytime training their small band of would be warriors so his actions drew notice. Salvius and Dardanos handled the bulk of the instruction with Nasir and some of the other remaining warriors dropping in to assist. Agron could not stand the fact he could not pick up sword and shield and being faced with those that could caused more pain that Agron had admitted to anyone. Even the sight of Nasir going through his forms, spear whipping around him almost faster than the eye brought him more bitter resentment than pleasure.

Dardanos and Vezina circled each other a few steps before Dardanos made the first move. He brought a wide sweeping cut towards Vezina’s left side, a testing swing, not one with any serious intention behind it. Vezina blocked the blow easily and struck back with a backhanded swipe towards the Thracian’s head who dodged the attack and took two steps back. The two began to circle again.

“Observe Vezina.” Agron instructed Rufus. “Watch her attack.”

Taking her cue, Vezina leapt forward, her sword ringing out against Dardanos’s; but this time she her attack did not abate. She allowed Dardanos to direct her sword away to the right and spun with the movement, whipping her sword around her to try and strike Dardanos’s other side. The Thracian let out a bark of laughter and struck back. Agron knew Dardanos was holding back, Vezina was skilled but the pseudo-doctore had the experience of many battles on his side. 

“Watch how she does not try to overpower his defence. She allows her attack to be turned, keeping her balance and using the movement to strike again.”

Rufus’s eyes were wide as he watched the pair’s movements closely.

“Now defend.” Agron instructed Vezina.

Dardanos grinned and pressed forward, launching a deliberate cut at the scout’s left side. Vezina caught the attack but instead of standing her ground and trying to use her strength to block the blow she fluidly allowed the sword to slide down her own, applying enough force only to keep it from cutting her as she danced out of the way.

“She does not attempt to match his strength, she turns the attack much as she allowed her own to be turned and she moves out of range.”

Rufus was hanging on Agron’s every word, eyes glued to the fighters.

“Balance is what will keep you alive, immobility is death.” Agron tried hard not to think of the immobility of his hands and how true that statement was. “As long as you have your balance you have options.”

Vezina and Dardanos traded a few more playful blows before breaking off, laughing. Agron realized with a start that not only had Dardanos’s archers circled around but he had attracted a bigger audience. It was the first time he had given a lesson in combat and he thought the oddity must have attracted the attention.

Agron actually felt lighter having given a small instruction. He had stayed away from the training grounds for so long, sensitive of his inability to train but he had not considered giving direction, had not thought to assume mantel of doctore. 

“Now you.” Agron instructed Rufus.

The boy – nearly a young man, Agron realized – eagerly assumed his previous position and Vezina squared up across from him.

“Slowly.” Agron told Vezina who nodded.

Agron continued to give individual instruction to an ever growing crowd of rebels. Word had gotten out he was running training and those who did not have other tasks appeared to get their chance to learn from the rebel general. Before he knew it, the sun was low in the sky and his stomach was rumbling. He ended training for the day and turned to enter the villa, food the only thing on his mind, when he saw Nasir on the veranda, leaning against a pillar and observing him with a fond look on his face. 

“Heart lifts to see you so light.” Nasir said when Agron stopped in front of him. “And all were captivated.”

“It was just an oddity, something new.” Agron dismissed Nasir’s words.

Nasir just smiled and shook his head, then his eyes seemed to alight on something and he scowled. Agron turned to see where his gaze fell and saw Pollux laughing with some of the other archers, golden hair shining in the sun. Agron stepped in front to block his view and leant down to softly kiss Nasir who allowed it, tilting his head back and running his hands up the back of Agron’s neck into his hair. They were interrupted by Agron’s growling stomach.

Nasir laughed, “Get you to our room, I will bring nourishment.”

Agron was relieved, it was their usual custom to take meals together in their room and Agron was glad Nasir was not going to change that despite being angry. It had started as a way for Nasir to feed Agron without anyone seeing but now that he was able to hold a spoon himself, albeit awkwardly, it was a time for the two of them to sit together, a break from their duties and time to be alone without the constant demands that came with leadership.

Agron sat on their pallet and thought over their plans. He hoped Cato and Septimus brought news of a ship that fit their criteria but he knew it could be weeks before a ship that met their needs docked in Sipontum, They would have better luck down the coast in Barium but it was too big a port, too many risks of being seen and the city would have more guards. Agron was anticipating very little resistance when they took the ship, a few crew members set to watch and perhaps a harbour guard but that was it. Of course, after they took it there would be legionnaires looking for them. Agron was unsure if enough time had passed and if they were far enough away that the assumption would not be that the theft was the work of Spartacus’s rebels. If that were the case, they could anticipate being followed to Dalmatia. Agron wondered if it was a mistake to sail to Salona, as the biggest city in the region that could be where the Romans began their search. 

Of course, they would not sail the ship into the Salonan harbour, they would scuttle it near the mouth of the Titius river and trek south to get supplies in Salona. It was a big enough city that those who were careful about hiding their brand could pass as poor freedmen and settle. The Roman rule in Dalmatia was administered with a lighter hand than in some of the other territories, Agron had heard. The occupation was at a few generations old by now and the odds of revolt low.

Nasir returned bearing a tray of meat and bread with a bowl of stewed vegetables. 

“Gratitude.” Agron said as Nasir placed the tray between the two of them.

“You must remember to care for yourself.” Nasir admonished, taking a knife to the serving of boar to portion out the meat.

Agron hmm-ed, non-committal, as he used his two hands to dunk his piece of bread into the stew, too hungry to care about the liquid dripping onto his chest as he demolished the softened loaf. 

Nasir laughed and reached over to wipe at the spilled soup with a cloth, “Very dignified.”

Agron shrugged and grabbed a piece of freshly sliced meat and shoved it into his mouth while he still chewed his bread. Nasir ate at a more sedate pace, smiling as he watched Agron wolf down his portion and passing him an extra potion of meat when he had finished his allotted amount.

Finished, Agron slid back to lean against the wall while Nasir mopped up the remaining soup with his bread.

“How stand the stores?” He asked.

Nasir shrugged, “Less than a fortnight if we salt the meat and keep to our current rationing.”

Agron frowned, “We must find a ship soon or we will have to raid a villa, we cannot depend on finding enough game to sustain us.”

“Agreed, if we were to send another hunting party I would recommend north, the land to the south and west had little to offer.” Nasir said.

They were interrupted by a rapid knocking on their door. Agron blanched, the last person to do that had been Pollux and Agron prayed the boy was not stupid enough to appear when Nasir was present.

“Come in.” Nasir called and Agron suppressed a sigh of relief when he saw it was Laeta.

“Cato and Septimus have returned.” She said.


	6. Chapter 6

Laeta led them to an empty storeroom where Dardanos was standing guard. He clapped his fist to his chest in a salute and let them into the room where Salvius was waiting with Cato and Septimus.

“What news do you bring?” Agron cut to the chase as the door closed behind him.

“We were noticed!” Septimus said.

“We do not know that.” Cato quickly cut in.

“Sipontum is too small a town for us not to have been!” Septimus was worked up.

Septimus was a nervous man but he was smart and resourceful which is why Agron sent him with Cato, a man of more steel but not creative or adaptable.

“Calm yourself.” Agron said. “Tell me what happened.”

“We were noti-” Septimus began again.

“I will make report.” Cato cut him off. “We entered the town mid morning by the main road but there is a fisherman’s trail along the waterfront that leads north to a small clutch of shacks that seem abandoned.”

“Seem?” Nasir cut in. “We need to be sure.”

“No one was around, windows were boarded up and doors secured, maybe it is not the right season?” Cato offered.

“We need to find someone who would know, someone from the coast.” Agron instructed Salvius who nodded. “We will pass through at night, it will do us no good to have fishermen at home.”

“Continue.” Nasir said to Cato.

“There are five ships at dock, two small fishing are vessels not large enough for anything we need, the other three were larger. Two looked of a size for our purposes but their sails were folded and we could not see the shape.”

“And when will they depart?” Laeta asked, anxiously – Agron thought she was thinking of the fever-stricken.

“One is awaiting a shipment of olive oil from Larinum that has been delayed.” Cato said. “Could be any day, the other at least a fortnight.”

“We must move quickly.” Salvius said. 

“Agreed.” Agron said. “What of guards and crew?”

“Five dock guards, we only saw seven crewmen but a ship that size, there must be more.” Cato shrugged.

“And brothels? Taverns?” Agron asked.

“Uh, at least one tavern near to the docks, we did not look for others.” Cato was caught off guard.

“Why?” asked Septimus angrily. “Are we to be asked to share drink with the Romans next?”

“Because the more entertainment, the less crew will be sleeping aboard the ship when we take it.” Agron said sharply.

“So we are going to take this one.” Cato said, serious and solid.

“Not necessarily,” Nasir said. “That holds true for whatever ship we decide on.”

“Anything else?” Agron asked, ready to dismiss them.

“No.” Cato said.

“Yes!” Septimus contradicted. “We were noticed!”

“We had one merchant ask us where we came from and what business we had.” Cato admitted.

“That sounds ominous.” Nasir said, looking at Agron.

“It was friendly conversation.” Cato said. “That is all.”

“What did you tell him?” Agron asked. 

“That we had purchased an olive orchard south of Larinum and were exploring options for export.” Septimus said, of course he would have been the one to think of it. “We were on our way to Salapia but heard Sipontum may be able to accommodate our needs.”

“Did you leave by the south road?” Agron asked.

Septimus and Cato looked at each other.

“No,” Cato said grimly. “We took the fisherman’s trail to see where it went.”

Agron frowned and exchanged glances with Nasir, it did not necessarily mean anyone took note but Agron would have preferred they got away without being questioned.

“We must move quickly.” Salvius said again, more urgently.

“Is that all?” Agron asked the two scouts.

“Yes.” Cato said.

“Dismissed.” Agron said and both men saluted and left, Agron heard them greeting Dardanos as Laeta shut the door.

“What are your thoughts?” Nasir asked Agron.

“We must move tomorrow night.” He replied, looking around the circle.

Nasir looked like he expected that response, Salvius looked worried and Laeta looked uncertain.

“We could wait a fortnight, we would be more prepared.” Laeta said.

“What more is there to do?” Nasir asked. “We are as ready as we will be.”

“More may yet recover from the fever.” Laeta said, and Agron knew that was her primary concern.

“We cannot afford to wait.” Agron said. “The season turns and soon the dominus of this villa will seek a respite from the city’s heat.”

“And there is always the chance that Septimus is right and that merchant tells someone his concerns.” Nasir added.

“There is no reason to wait any longer.” Salvius concurred.

“No reason but the lives of people!” Laeta snapped.

“There are lives at risk either way.” Agron shot back. “We must do what we can for the majority.”

“We should bring Decima into this.” Nasir said. 

“I will fetch her.” Salvius volunteered. 

Agron nodded and Salvius slipped out the door.

Laeta’s arms were crossed as she glared at Agron, “Spartacus would not-”

“Spartacus would!” Agron roared, having reached the end of his patience on the subject. “Did you forget the bridge of bodies he had us build? The paths he lead us down, knowing people would die?”

Nasir laid a hand on his arm and Agron took a deep breath before he continued.

“Spartacus did what needed to be done, even when it was hard and we must do the same or have all fall to the Romans.”

Laeta looked cowed by his outburst and Agron hoped he was not loud enough for Dardanos to hear, it would not do to have it known there is discord between the rebel leadership. 

“We will hear what Decima has to say.” Nasir said, his hand still resting on Agron’s arm, a tether to keep his temper in check. “Before making decisions.”

Both Laeta and Agron nodded, Laeta perching on the side of the table along the far wall and pointedly ignoring Agron. Nasir gave Agron a look and Agron sighed.

“Apologies, Laeta.” He said. “It is not an easy decision for me either.”

Laeta uncrossed her arms and said, “I apologize as well, after Sinuessa I do not wish to lose any more lives.”

Agron and Nasir exchanged glances, though they had not participated in the slaughter initiated by Crixus, they had killed many Romans while taking the city. 

“We may have to.” Nasir said sadly and Agron was glad that Nasir saved him from having to say it.

The door opened and Decima preceded Salvius into the room, face drawn and tired. She nodded in greeting to the three of them and Agron cut right to the heart of things.

“Decima, we are planning to leave for Dalmatia tomorrow night.” He said bluntly.

“I see.” Decima said.

“We need to know who of the wounded and sick can travel.” Nasir said. 

Decima sighed, “It is not good news.”

“How fairs the fevered?” Laeta asked anxiously.

“There are five that will not awaken.” Decima reported. “Six others have been stricken with the fever and they worsen.”

Decima hesitated.

“What is it?” Agron asked. 

“Tullia says at this point some medicum would use,” She hesitated again. “Belladona.”

“What??” Laeta exclaimed.

“I take it we are not speaking of a cure.” Nasir said grimly. 

“We are speaking of murder!” Laeta turned on Nasir. 

“Hold!” Agron commanded. “Decima, explain.”

“Right now they are starving to death, we feed them a honey water mixture but they do not swallow enough, they will starve if they do not awaken.” Decima looked so drawn that Agron momentarily wondered when she last slept. “It would be a mercy.”

Laeta looked outraged at that point but Agron spoke before she could.

“How long do they have if we do not act?”

“I know not, a few days, perhaps more.” Decima shrugged helplessly. “Though the fever might boil their blood dry before then, it rages unabated.”

Their group fell silent, Laeta angrily stewing, Nasir thoughtful and Salvius serious.

“We have a decision to make.” Agron said.

“What decision?” Laeta exclaimed. “We are speaking of lives!”

“Salvius,” Nasir said to the swordmaster. “You have been quiet, what direction do you thoughts bend?”

“I think that I miss the days when I would not be asked for my thoughts.” Salvius said grimly. “But I am afraid we will have to take the hard road.”

It was the answer Agron expected, Salvius was a practical man. 

“I agree.” Nasir said softly, Agron could tell the decision would stay with him.

“And we already know which way your thoughts bend!” Laeta accused Agron.

“They are dying” Agron said flatly. “and we cannot afford to wait for them to do so on their own.”

“And who will serve as executioner?” Laeta glared around the circle. “Will you force Decima to stain her hands or will you act as men and do it yourselves?”

“I will do it.” Agron said. “Decima, I will need you to make the mixture.”

Decima was frowning but she nodded.

“And that is all? Decision is made?” Laeta asked, near tears. “I cannot believe this. This is murder.”

“That may be, but it is necessary.” Nasir said sadly.

“Tonight.” Agron said to Decima. “I will find you in the infirmary and we will get it done.”

“What of the others?” Decima asked.

“Are we not murdering them as well? Would that not serve the greater good?” Laeta said sarcastically.

Agron ignored her and answered Decima, “The fever-stricken who have hope of recovery and those too wounded to walk will be borne on stretchers, how many do you require to assist in moving them?”

Decima considered that, “Will we bring the carts?”

“We can, even if the Romans find where we departed from they will not know where we sail for.” Agron looked at Nasir for his opinion.

“If we wish to move as quickly as we must we will have to bring them, we do not have the numbers to bear so many for a distance.” Nasir agreed.

“I will require four more who can lift.” Decima said, considering. “I wish to limit exposure to the fever.”

Agron looked at Salvius, “Pick four from your recruits, none of the seasoned warriors, and ensure they are hearty, perhaps that will stave off the illness. Also, choose ten men to accompany Nasir and I into Sipontum.”

Salvius nodded his understanding but Agron could feel Nasir’s eyes boring into him.

“Laeta,” Agron turned to the woman who now looked resigned to their path. “You will manage supplies, the cooks are to serve two ample meals and all should be ready to leave before nightfall.”

Laeta just shook her head sadly but Agron assumed it was more at their decision than his order and ignored it.

“Anything further?” Agron looked around the circle.

No one spoke so Agron said, “Dismissed.”

Salvius, Decima and Laeta filed out of the room and Agron could hear Salvius speaking with Dardanos as the door shut behind them. Agron let out a sigh and went to rub his face with his hands before he remembered his hands and made a frustrated noise.

“We have selected the only path.” Nasir reassured him. “We must leave Italia, we have pressed our luck already.”

“I know, though I still feel as if I am missing a way out of this.” Agron shook his head and sighed again. “Laeta may have been right about Spartacus.”

“We cannot afford to dwell on the past, Spartacus is no longer with us, we must make our own decisions as best we can.” Nasir said firmly. 

“We should tell everyone today.” Agron said. “And we have to send someone to find a place on the coast where we can board everyone.” 

“Vezina and Tascilla could go.” Nasir suggested. “Though it is likely they will not return until daybreak.”

“Agreed.” Agron said. “Let us have everyone gathered in the courtyard, I will address them before they fall to their beds.”

“We should tell Vezina and Tascilla first.” Nasir said. “They may still be in the courtyard.”

“Agreed.” Agron said again.

When they entered the hallway it was empty, everyone having gone about their tasks. 

“It would be best to forge my weapon tonight, there will be precious little time in the morning.” Agron said as they strode along the hallways.

Nasir looked over at him and bit his lip, not answering right away. Agron came to a sudden halt and Nasir carried on a few steps before realizing.

“What?” Agron asked sharply but he had an idea of what Nasir was going to say.

“I thought,” Nasir began delicately. “That you might lead the bulk of our forces, they will need you.”

“No.” Agron said flatly and began to walk again.

“Wha- what?” Nasir faltered, scrambling after him.

“No.” Agron said again. “I will not be put away with the chattel.”

“Agron-” Nasir began.

“No. It is not for discussion.” Agron said. “I will be on the raid and I will either be with a weapon or without a weapon – that is in your power.”

“Agron.” Nasir grabbed his arm and pulled him to a halt. “We have enough men for the mission and we should not risk the progress you have made with your hands.”

“I will not be kept from this.” Agron said.

He suspected that this might be an issue he would have to have out with Nasir but he had hoped that his lover would understand that he could not be left behind. It would also be a signal to the rest of his weakness. To be excluded from such a mission was tantamount to admitting he was powerless, useless, unfit to lead.

“Let us be wise in this-” Nasir began soothingly.

“No.” Agron said. “I will not be swayed on this.”

When Nasir opened then closed his mouth, seemingly at a loss for words, Agron gave a short nod and began walking again. He was not certain that Nasir would not pick this back up when they retired to their room for the night but for now he had prevailed. 

They entered the courtyard and indeed Vezina and Tascilla were there, laughing in a circle of women who were darning clothes. It was growing late and the fires burning in the large flower planters were low. As Agron and Nasir approached the circle fell silent and Vezina and Tascilla straightened to attention.

“Excuse us, ladies.” Agron said and signalled to the two scouts to follow them further into the garden and away from curious onlookers. 

“Are we to leave again?” Tascilla asked.

The younger of the two, she was always eager to go out on missions to prove her worth. If it were not for an injury to her left arm that made her unable to hold a shield, she would have been in the last battle.

“Yes, we were very upset to hear you sent Cato and Septimus to town without us.” Vezina said sarcastically.

“Good,” Nasir said, ignoring the sarcasm. “because we have need of your services again.”

“We are leaving tomorrow.” Agron said bluntly. “We need you to find a place north along the coast to board our people on a ship.”

“Tomorrow?” Vezina said, surprised.

“What kind of place?” Tascilla said at the same time.

“The ship we are taking will have a shallow draft,” Agron said, answering the younger scout. “So it need not be deep, but it should be sheltered, with no possibility of being spotted. We must be able to bring the carts as well.”

“Tomorrow?” Vezina asked again. 

“Yes,” Nasir said. “You will have to go now and be back before the noon sun.”

Vezina glanced over at Tascilla grimly and the Celt grinned back at her. After a second Vezina shook her head and gave an exasperated smile back.

“We will leave immediately.” Tascilla said.

“Let us take some food and water first.” Vezina interrupted.

Tascilla nodded in agreement then said to Agron and Nasir, “You can trust us with this.”

“We did not doubt it.” Nasir said with a smile. “On your way to the kitchen, send those you meet here to receive instruction.” 

Both scouts saluted and took off towards the interior of the villa. Their conversation had raised the interest of the rest of the courtyard’s occupants and they were now staring expectantly at Agron and Nasir.

“I suppose it is time to address them.” Agron said, tired all of a sudden. “People should fall to their beds soon.”

“Take a moment,” Nasir said, squeezing Agron’s shoulder comfortingly. “I will gather the rest.”

Agron sighed as he watched Nasir walk through the garden and into the courtyard. He would have to assign roles before dismissing people for the night. Laeta would hand assignments to the cooks and manage the loading of stores tomorrow morning. Salvius and Dardanos could handle choosing those to go on the raid and some to help Decima. 

Decima! Agron winced, he had forgotten his grisly duty. While Nasir fabricated him a new weapon and the others were taking assignments, he would have to meet Decima in the infirmary. How would it feel to rob five innocents of life and to perform the deed with calm head and cold blood. Would it be more merciful to use a blade? What did it feel like to be poisoned to death? Agron could imagine the cold bite of steel, had felt it more than once, but he couldn’t picture poisoning. Would it be slow, the liquid slowly seeping into the extremities or would it be quick, speeding towards the heart and stopping its beat? 

“Agron.” Nasir was back at his side, his presence driving away the circling darkness. “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” Agron replied, shaking his head to clear it. “Let us go.”

Nasir gave him a searching look with a small frown but turned to precede Agron into the courtyard where a low hum of conversation was coming from the assembled rebels. The group fell quiet when Agron and Nasir stopped in front of them at the edge of the garden. 

“Good evening.” Agron said, his voice projecting through the entire space. “You all knew that this was not to be our final destination, that we need to keep going so that we can finally be free of Roman yoke.”

This sparked a flurry of whispers that quickly quieted when Agron continued.

“We need to take action before we are discovered here, we are in no shape to fight any more battles.” Agron took a breath. “So we will be leaving tomorrow evening.”

Gasps greeted this announcement then everyone began talking at once, a few shouts rose above the clamour but whether they were for or against the plan, Agron could not tell.

“Quiet!” Agron’s voice boomed above the din. “Quiet!”

Nasir put his fingers in his mouth and gave a loud, shrill whistle that quieted everyone.

“We will sail for Salona, those who wish to can make a life there if they are cautious.” Agron said.

“And if we do not?” Atporix pushed his way to the front, his grisled face set into its customary angry sneer.

“Spartacus meant to strike for Thrace but it is no secret that Nasir and I will be returning to Germania. Those who wish to follow us are welcome, those who wish to set out for other destinations may take a share of the stores and be free to go.” Agron did not wish to have anyone accompany him and Nasir but he could not abandon those who needed their leadership.

“Why must we sail at all?” Atporix’s question was greeted with more noises of support that Agron had expected. “Why can we not stay here?”

“We have discussed this.” Nasir said sharply. “As the seasons turn to summer, the owner of this villa will return and we will be discovered.”

“We all saw the state of this place when we got here.” Atporix countered. “What kind of dominus allows his garden to grown over, algae to take over the pools and moths to eat out all the linen? It is abandoned, that is plain enough to see.”

Agron and Nasir exchanged frustrated looks. 

“How would we feed ourselves?” Agron shot back. “How long before this place is sold and a new dominus appears at its gates?”

“We can stay at least a few seasons.” Atporix said. “There will be no new dominus this summer and no one will need to seek refuge from the heat come autumn.”

Agron was perturbed by the number of heads that were nodding in agreement with Atporix.

“We are leaving tomorrow and that is the end of it.” Agron said, not wanting to give Atporix a further platform. “You will report in your travel groups to your group leader. Salvius will give instruction to those who are confident with sword or bow; Laeta will manage those assigned to cook and those assigned to managing the stores. We will leave at noon tomorrow, I suggest you all sleep well.”

Without giving time for further argument, Agron strode towards the villa, people falling back to make a path for him and Nasir. As they go to the veranda, conversation began in their wake. Agron was too tired to care what they said, as long as they were ready to leave tomorrow at noon. And besides, he had a more pressing duty.

Nasir and he came to a stop at a junction of corridors.

“That went as well as could be expected, I suppose.” Nasir said.

“I must go to Decima.” Agron said, unable to focus on anything else.

Nasir’s face clouded over, “Of course, I had forgotten.”

“Will you-” Agron hesitated because they had not quite settled this point yet. “Will you make me a weapon?”

Nasir frowned, “Can you not-”

“No.” Agron interrupted. “I told you, I will be there with or without a means to fight.”

Nasir mulled that over for a moment.

“Alright.” He said. “I wish you would see reason but if you will not be kept from this, I will forge you a weapon.”

Agron leant down and kissed him, grateful in a way words could not capture. Nasir returned the kiss just as fiercely, holding Agron tight. 

When they broke apart, Nasir whispered against his lips, “We will get through this.”

“I must go.” Agron said and Nasir reluctantly let him go. “I will meet you in our chamber when it is all done.”

Agron walked down the corridor leading to the isolated sick rooms with purpose, there was no use in delaying, he knew what he had to do. He stopped outside the room Decima has emerged from last time but realized he was not certain which door he should go through, he did not want to run into any of the other medicus.

“Decima?” He called, hoping she was listening for him, knowing he would be coming.

Agron paused a listened but did not hear anything so he called again, a little louder, “Decima?”

The door behind him swung open and Decima beckoned him inside. Agron ducked through the doorway and the stench of sweat soaked bodies and sickness permeated his nostrils. He looked around at the still bodies lying on makeshift cots and pallets, each with a wet towel on their brows but Agron thought he could feel the heat radiating off their bodies despite the efforts made to keep them cool.

It was not until she straightened up that Agron noticed another medica standing in the shadowed corner next to one of the still bodies, damp cloth and bowl in her hands. 

“Who is this?” Agron asked Decima sharply, no one was meant to know about this.

“Tullia, I needed her help with the mixture.” Decima said. “She can be trusted.”

Tullia said nothing but did move into the flickering light of the lantern Decima held as Agron scrutinized her.

“She was the one who recommended this course of action,” Decima continued. “She knows there is no future for these people.”

“No one can know what transpires here tonight.” Agron said sternly, looking Tullia straight in the eyes. “What we do we do out of necessity and mercy.”

“Agreed.” Tullia said, her voice was deeper than Agron expected but that lent gravitas to her words. “This is the only path forward but it would do others no good to know what we do tonight.”

Agron steeled himself for a moment then asked, “How should it be done?”

Tuilla turned and put her bowl and cloth down on a table and took up a cup brimming with a dark liquid and a small funnel.

“Decima and I will raise the head and chest and you will slowly, or they will drown, pour a measure of this down their throats.” Tullia explained.

Decima was frowning but looked resolute and she nodded her agreement.

“How long will it take?” Agron was gazing down at Tarbus who was grey and whose chest barely rose and fell.

“An hour maybe, it depends.” Tullia said.

Agron looked around the room, an hour seemed at once too short a time for such a momentous act and too long a time to watch someone fade away. He realized with a guilty start that he did not know the other five rebels in the room. Tarbus had been a fighter, his festering sword wound no longer the thing that was threatening his life, the fever has superseded that. The others were older, Agron knew them by sight but could not summon their names.

“Agron?” Decima asked softly.

He looked up and saw both women were looking at him expectantly.

“I cannot do this.” Agron said, surprising himself as well as the medica. 

“What?” Decima asked confused. “But what of our plans to leave?”

“We will do as you suggested and isolate them in the captain’s quarters.” Agron said.

“That will not be enough.” Tullia cut in. “The fever will spread.”

“It will spread anyways.” Agron said, realizing it was true. “We will be bringing some of the sick with us, it may spread despite our efforts.”

“We could leave them here,” Tullia said. “With supplies, the less ill can tend to these ones until they pass.”

“Then what?” Agron asked. “They will have no means of escaping the Romans.”

Neither woman had a response.

“We will bring them with us.” Agron sighed. “Decima, ask Salvius in the morning for anything additional you need.”

“They are dying.” Tullia said Agron paused at the door. “If we bring them with us, we only invite more death upon ourselves.

Agron gave her a hard look then said to Decima, “I will come by in the morning to check on things.”

He swept out of the room, wanting to distance himself from Tullia’s words. He could not argue with her, it was likely that he was dooming more souls but he could not dispose of people as the Romans did, they were not livestock to be slaughtered when they no longer served a purpose. Agron did not know what he would tell Nasir, he was taking a circuitous route to their chamber, passing by rooms where rebels had turned in for the night or were talking quietly amongst themselves. They had agreed and his weakness on this would endanger more. He was clear on the purpose but he lacked the fortitude to carry out the task.

Agron found himself on the threshold of his chamber sooner than he would have liked; he still had not come to a decision on how to tell Nasir. He sighed and pushed open the door. Nasir was awake waiting for him, he rose from his reclining position to greet him, wrapping him in his arms as soon as he entered the room.

“Agron.” Nasir said, pulling back from the embrace to look the taller man in the eye. “Are you alright?”

“I do not know.” Agron replied truthfully.

Nasir took him by the hand gingerly and led him to sit on the edge of their pallet. 

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” Nasir asked gently.

“Nothing.” Agron said.

“What do you mean?” Nasir was rubbing his back soothingly.

“I could not do it. I could not kill them.” Agron was ashamed to be so weak in front of his love.

Nasir was quiet too long and Agron felt the need to sneak a look at his face. To his surprise Nasir’s eyes were shining with love instead of disappointment.

“What?” Agron asked, confused.

“My heart feels lighter at your words.” Nasir said. “I know we agreed and I do believe we came to the most logical decision but I do not know if I could have lived with that blood on my hands.”

“But I have endangered us all.” Agron said.

“Perhaps not, did you not say Decima and some of the other women have had the fever and it left them no worse for wear?” Nasir reasoned.

“We have many elderly, those who are not as strong as Decima.” For, though she was a slight woman, she was strong.

“You sound as if you wish I were angry with you.” Nasir was puzzled.

“I feel as if I lack the strength to lead.” Agron looked down at his hands reflexively. “I cannot fill his absence.”

“Spartacus is not here.” Nasir said.

“So I am all we have?” Agron asked bitterly.

“No, so we cannot say what he would have done.” Nasir said. “You cannot allow the shadow of him to haunt your decisions.”

“I was not made for this. I am a man of action not a man of thought. Everyday I could be leading our people closer to their dooms.”

“We do not know that, but we do know that every day these people get to live is because of you.” Nasir countered.

Agron turned towards the smaller man and stroked his face fondly, “Every day I live is because of you.”

Nasir closed his eyes and leaned into Agron’s touch. 

“We should fall to our bed.” Nasir murmured, eyes still closed. “There is much to do tomorrow.”

Agron gave Nasir’s soft lips a chaste kiss and hmm-ed his agreement. They both rose for Nasir to undress them both. Agron could not stop himself from stealing small touches and caresses of Nasir’s skin as the other man moved around their small space readying for bed. He needed Nasir’s calm steadfastness to centre him and was glad to lie down and wrap himself fully around his smaller lover. Breathing in his scent, Agron was able to calm his overstimulated brain and embrace the god of sleep’s siren call.


	7. Chapter 7

Agron’s rest did not last long, he found himself startled awake in the early hours of the morning. Heart pounding, he sat up and listened hard, trying to locate what had woken him; it was most likely his own dark dreams but Spartacus’s lesson about vigilance at night was well learned. Agron rose to check the hallway, slipping his loose pants on with some difficulty, and ended up doing a pseudo patrol of the length of the corridor, peering into the rooms along the hall, mostly small empty storage rooms that used to contain linen and amphorae and the like. As expected, the corridor was empty.

With a sigh, Agron returned to his chamber, certain he would not return to sleep that morning. He paused in the doorway to watch Nasir sleep. The younger man was curled onto his side, ready to fit perfectly into Agron’s embrace. His lover moved little in his sleep, accustomed, Agron felt his fury spike, to having to lay silent next to his dominus. Nasir had only begun to sleep more deeply over the last year or so, he had been accustomed to waking at every creak and slight movement in their bed as a survival tactic during his days as a body slave but after Spartacus’s army grew to its largest size, Nasir and Agron were always ensconced within the heart of the camp and worry about being set on in the night faded.

As if his thoughts were spoken aloud, Nasir began to stir slightly, turning to face the empty space that Agron would have occupied. Agron held his breath, hoping that his love’s sleep was not similarly disturbed. Agron burdened him enough during the day, he would not ruin Nasir’s nights as well. When he was first returned from the Romans he had night terrors that woke him multiple times a night and Nasir had been there to calm him through them and hold him tight. Those dreams had not necessarily disappeared but Agron no longer cried out because of them. He often did not remember the substance but the feeling of terror and fear followed him into the waking world. It was likely that was what had roused him this morning. 

Nasir settled back into his even breathing, having scooted closer to Agron’s empty spot, probably seeking warmth. He was like a lizard in that way, always wanting to be in the sun or wrapped tight in pelts and blankets. Perhaps it was Milea Ridge that caused his warmth seeking behaviour, Agron could not quite recall when it began, mayhap it was his Syrian blood that called out for sun and heat. 

On cue, a slight breeze blew through the open doorway and Nasir shivered, eyes coming slightly open as he reached for Agron to warm him. Agron watched Nasir reach out for him and swiftly returned to the other man’s side before panic could seize Nasir upon finding Agron absent.

“Go to sleep, my love.” Agron said, doing his best to push Nasir back into the bed, stroking his hair softly.

“What woke you?” Nasir asked, sleepily, eyes almost closed as he allowed himself to be settled back amongst the pillows and blankets.

“Nothing, an imaginary noise.” Agron would not mention the panicked feeling that accompanied him waking. 

“Return to our bed,” Nasir gave an exaggerated shiver. “It grows cold in your absence.”

“Any more blankets and you shall cook to death.” Agron made to pull the cover further over Nasir but winced in pain when his hand did not cooperate.

Nasir reached out to capture Agron’s hand and press gentle kisses to the pads of each of his fingers and, finally, to the palm.

“Are you in much pain?” He asked, pulling at Agron’s hand to prompt him back to bed.

Agron let himself be guided back beneath the covers. Once he settled back on the pillows, Nasir curled up against his chest, drawing whorling designs on Agron’s chest with his fingers. 

Agron considered Nasir’s question for a moment, when he thought about them they throbbed with every beat of his pulse, the blood feeling so close to the surface, contained only by his hardened scabs. The searing pains he used to get every time he accidentally flexed a small muscle or ligament in his hands were gone and the constant ache had subsided and only returned when he overworked his hands. Which, to be fair, was almost every day. Agron was eager to increase his functionality day over day and grew impatient with the slow progress he was making. Decima had told him to take it more slowly but her admonishments were not enough to deter him from pressing his recovery hard each day. 

“Agron?” Nasir prompted.

“No,” Agron said. “Nothing like when I first returned.”

Nasir frowned, “But they do hurt.”

Agron shrugged noncommittally, now that he was thinking about them, the throb in the centre of his palms was hard to ignore.

Nasir was silent for a moment, then said, “Are you going to tell me what woke you?”

“Nothing, truly.” Agron lied. “The day ahead occupies thoughts and I sought some fresh air.”

Nasir was quiet and Agron thought he had fallen asleep but then he said, “I too worry about what is to come.”

Agron could hear in his voice that Nasir wanted Agron to elaborate on which way his thoughts bent. Agron tried not to share his fears with Nasir, tried to shield him from the dark thoughts that often threatened to overtake him. But that came at a cost, what Nasir had said a few days ago was true, they did feel far from each other of late. It was Agron’s fault, he was closed off and touchy, quick to anger and prone to brood; Nasir was a god to put up with him, to be so patient and doting. 

It was for Agron to make the effort to bridge the gap between them so he said, “I feel as Sisyphus, rolling his boulder up the hill never to reach the top.”

Nasir shifted so his chin was pillowed on his arms he had crossed on Agron’s chest and he was looking the other man in the eyes.

“We will reach the top, we will reach Germania and be free of all this. Those that follow us will make their own lives and it will be only us at last.” Nasir said earnestly.

Agron wondered if Nasir really believed that. Agron wasn’t sure if he himself did anymore, it seemed like such a fantasy, the distance too great and the obstacles too numerous. They had been fighting for so long and Agron was tired, exhausted really, and he was not sure he could even muster the energy to hope for a better future let alone make one flesh.

“Does it not seem as if even the gods of these Romans conspire against us?” Agron asked. “What do you think Neptune has in store for us on the morrow?”

“We have bested the Romans and their gods thus far.”

Agron did not reply, he feared he had shared too many of his thoughts already, he did not want to rob Nasir of any hope he could gather.

Nasir reached out to grab him lightly by the chin and shake his head, “Do not give up on us yet.”

“Do not worry about me, we will persevere. With you by my side how can we not win?”

Agron gave Nasir a fond smile and then playfully snapped at his fingers. Nasir withdrew them quickly with a surprised laugh, it had been a long while since Agron had done anything that could be considered playful. 

“Come here.” Agron said and Nasir eagerly leant forward to press their lips together in chaste kiss.

Agron did not let him stop there though, his hands tangled into Nasir’s hair and, though his hold was weak, that was enough to encourage Nasir to deepen the kiss. Nasir swung his leg over to straddle Agron, his whole body pressed against the larger man’s. Agron ran his hands lightly over Nasir’s bare body, wishing he could hold the other man more tightly, wanting him as close as possible as if their physically proximity could bridge the emotional gap, could bring them back in sync. 

Nasir was set on stripping Agron of his pants, and Agron lifted his hips to help. Once they were bare skin on bare skin, the both grew hard quickly, Nasir’s setting a rhythm with his hips and riding the answering cant from Agron’s. Agron needed to taste Nasir, with his hands unable to bring the other man to completion, he wanted to bring pleasure to his lover in some way.

“Come here, I wish to taste you.” He said, huskily. 

Nasir scrambled to comply, sliding up Agron’s body and turning around so that Agron could bury his face in Nasir’s ass. He licked a stripe over Nasir’s hole before diving in completely, senses overtaken by everything Nasir. Agron licked and teased and fucked his tongue in and out of Nasir.

“Fuck the gods!” Nasir breathed, sitting back to get more of the sensation. 

Agron would happy suffocate to bring more of the keening noises that were coming out of Nasir. His useless hands rested on Nasir’s hips, wanting to press the other man even more into his face, to smell and taste and breathe Nasir. So he was not expecting it when Nasir leaned forward and engulfed Agron’s cock in the heat of his mouth. Agron gasped and arched his hips reflexively, driving his cock further into Nasir’s mouth and causing him to choke but Nasir leaned into it, making obscene noises as he took Agron as far as he could down his throat. 

Agron realized he had abandoned his own efforts and reached up to direct Nasir’s cock into his own mouth, Nasir shifting his position to allow Agron more access. Agron was less skilled in these arts but more than enthusiastic which made up for it. He loved the heavy feeling of Nasir on his tongue as he lapped and sucked on Nasir’s cock and then took Nasir’s balls into his mouth one by one. That was a weakness for Nasir who pulled off Agron’s cock to moan.

“Want you inside me.” Nasir panted, re-situating himself so he was once again astride Agron’s hips.

He slipped a finger into his mouth and sucked on it provocatively, giving Agron a show. Agron knew what was coming next but his breath still caught at the expression on Nasir’s face when he reached behind himself and slipped that finger inside. Agron was frustrated, this was his favourite part, preparing Nasir. Nasir noticed the look on his face and took removed his finger and took Agron by the hand gently, holding his wrist with one hand.

“Does this hurt?” He asked as he carefully took two of Agron’s fingers in the other hand and held them lightly.

“No.” Agron answered, confused.

Nasir tightened his grip on those two fingers and looked at Agron questioningly. Agron shook his head, that did not hurt either. Nasir then took Agron’s fingers into his mouth to wet them and Agron realized what he was going to do. He took Agron’s fingers and started to ease them into himself, careful that all the force came from him and not from Agron. Agron’s mouth dropped open as Nasir’s tight heat surrounded him. He unconsciously sought to drive them further in and winced when that brought a sharp pain to his hand. 

“Let me.” Nasir breathed, obliging Agron by sliding his fingers deeper. 

Agron had to concentrate at first to allow Nasir to take control but soon got the hang of it. Nasir helped Agron add a third finger, this brought pain to Agron’s hand but he did not allow it to show, not wanting Nasir to stop, not when he had that exquisite look on his face. Soon Nasir deemed himself prepared and briefly left Agron to grab their vial of oil, that moment seeming a lifetime to Agron. Nasir drizzled oil over Agron’s cock and then guided it to rest against his entrance. 

“Ready?” He asked, smiling down at Agron.

“Beyond.” Agron answered, bucking his hips slightly.

Nasir sat back, steadying Agron’s length so he could impale himself on it slowly. They both groaned in satisfaction when Nasir was fully seated on Agron’s cock. Nasir began to grind down on Agron at a steady pace, stroking himself in time, hand slick with excess oil. Agron dug his heels into the pallet and thrust up into Nasir, throwing off the other man’s rhythm in favour of pounding into him with long, hard strokes. Nasir gave a surprised noise that soon turned to a steady moan punctuated with entreaties to the gods. 

Agron was nearing the edge of pleasure embarrassingly fast but it seemed as if Nasir was as well because he had picked up the speed at which he was stroking himself and his head had fallen back in pleasure. Agron reached out and grasped Nasir’s wrist lightly so he could feel as if he were the one bringing Nasir over the edge. Nasir looked down and locked eyes with Agron, his own hazed with pleasure while Agron’s were full of concentration, determined not to finish before Nasir. Nasir called Agron’s name when he came, spilling over his hand and Agron’s stomach. Agron fucked him through his orgasm, lessening his pace but keeping his strokes long and deep. 

Nasir collapsed onto Agron’s chest, smearing his cum between their stomachs. He always took a moment to recover, Agron was always jealous by how intensely Nasir’s pleasure took him, the force of his orgasm tiring him out. At this point, Agron would generally flip him on to his back and bend him in half, Nasir’s legs thrown over his shoulder, but he was unable to do so now. He settled for starting to thrust lightly into Nasir again, coaxing the other man back to earth. 

Nasir smiled and sat up, “I have not forgotten you.”

Before Agron could answer he picked himself up and slammed himself back down on Agron’s cock. Nasir’s head fell back and his eyes closed as he savoured being so thoroughly filled. Agron knew he loved the feeling of Agron being deeply seated inside him, ass resting on Agron’s balls, every inch spearing him to his core. Slowly Nasir began to pick up the speed of his hips until he was riding Agron at a punishing pace, the two of them sweating and groaning. Agron was repeating Nasir’s name like a mantra, he felt himself vaulting over the edge of pleasure, filling Nasir to the brim. Nasir ground down on Agron, milking every drop with his tight muscles. 

Nasir lay back down on Agron’s chest, which was heaving slightly as Agron sought to catch his breath. Agron wrapped his arms around the other man and kissed the top of his head. 

“I love you.” Agron said.

“You love my ass at least.” Nasir teased, smiling but he stopped and changed his tone when he looked up and saw the serious expression on Agron’s face. “I love you as well, more than anything the gods have placed on land or in sea.”

They lay like that for a while, Nasir listening to Agron’s even heartbeat and Agron’s fingers dancing lightly over every piece of Nasir he could reach. Agron felt he must have dozed off for a moment because before he knew it, the sun was rising, the first orange light of the day slipping through their window. 

“Nasir?” Agron asked quietly, brushing the smaller man’s hair back from his face. 

“Hmm?” Nasir answered.

“We should rise, there is much to do before midday.” Agron said, gently jostling Nasir.

Nasir heaved a long suffering sigh, his breath tickling Agron’s chest, but he did roll off of Agron and rose from their blankets. His cum had dried between the two of them and Agron grimaced at the feeling but Nasir, as always, had anticipated his needs and was there with a wet cloth to clean off his and Agron’s stomachs. He tossed it aside carelessly, they would not be bringing it with them.

“What shall we address first this morning?” Agron asked, rising from their bed and struggling with pulling on his pants. 

Nasir let him work on that while he dressed himself. 

“I must finish your weapon.” Nasir said, strapping on his arm braces. “Unless...?”

“No,” Agron smiled at his attempt. “I have not been swayed, I will be among those who take the ship this evening.”

“We will need to strategize with our chosen men this afternoon.” Nasir said, thinking aloud. “Tell Laeta and Salvius we must accommodate more of the ill than anticipated.”

Agron winced, he was still uncertain he had made the right decision. 

“Did you set a sentry schedule with Salvius already?” Nasir breezed over his discomfort. “And decisions will have to be made about who amongst the newly trained should be armed.”

“I should see Decima, ensure she does not require anything additional.” Agron did not look forward to it.

“I will accompany you.” Nasir said.

“No need, I am capable.” Agron assured him.

“Nonetheless, I will accompany you.” Nasir said it matter-of-factly, turning to help Agron with his armour. “And then we shall eat before taking on the day’s tasks.”

After Nasir finished dressing Agron, they set out together for the infirmary, passing by rooms where rebels had already risen and were either eating or beginning to pack their few possessions. When they arrived in the corridor Agron was unsure which door to open, he only knew he did not want to return to the room he had been in the night before. A door opened and one of the older midwives who helped Decima bustled out, crossing the hallway and opening a door opposite the one she had left.

“Have you seen Decima?” Nasir asked before she could close the door.

She looked startled, as if she had not seen the two of them taking up the hallway.

“Here.” She said, stepping aside and gesturing for them to precede her into the room.

This room was along the outside wall and had a window so the smell of sickness was less pronounced. Decima had her motley group of medicus assembled before her and she was obviously in the midst of giving instruction when they entered. 

“Agron, Nasir!” She exclaimed, sounding nervous. 

“Carry on,” Agron said. “We will take your attention after.”

“I was just saying – that is I was...” Decima glanced over at Tullia.

“We have unfortunate responsibility to inform you that five souls slipped away in the night from their fever, they suffer no longer.” Tullia said.

Agron looked at Nasir, shocked and saw his expression reflected in the other man’s face. Then his head whipped around and he looked between Decima and Tullia accusingly. He knew he had found the perpetrators when Decima looked down and away from his stare, guilty, but Tullia met his stare with an even one of her own. Her look dared him to say something, to discipline her for something he was too weak to do himself. Agron was ashamed, not just because he had failed to carry out his grim task the night before but because he was relieved. Relieved that Tullia had done what he could not, that she had done what needed to be done for the good of the group.

Nasir followed Agron’s gaze and looked between him and Tullia, his thoughts catching up to Agron’s. He grimaced but seemed to come to the same conclusion Agron had, there was nothing to be done about it now, for he stayed silent.

“We shall see them sent to the afterlife properly.” Agron said finally. “I will set men to the task of gathering wood.”

“Is there anything else you require?” Nasir asked, wanting to leave this room and Tullia’s knowing stare.

Decima shook her head silently, barely able to meet Nasir’s gaze for the guilt on her face. This is what Agron did not want to happen when they had made the decision in the first place, the burden was not Decima’s and it never should have fallen to her. 

“We shall return before departure.” Agron said kindly to her, he did not want her to think he was angry with her, he was not even sure he was angry with Tullia. “To ensure all things are going smoothly.”

Agron nodded to the other women in the room and he and Nasir left. 

Nasir waited until they were well away from the infirmary before asking, “What do we do about Tullia?”

“I am not certain there is something to do.” Agron sighed. “Can we punish her for something we wanted but could not do ourselves? And what would we say she was being punished for?”

“I suppose you are correct.” Nasir said, grudgingly. “However, it does feel as if something should be done.”

Agron shrugged, whether it should or not, it would not, nothing could be done. They arrived at the kitchens, other rebels streaming in and out with heaping bowls just as Agron ordered. Nasir popped in quickly to gather a small tray of things for them to eat and they retreated to one of the storerooms, still stocked, the loading of the carts had not yet begun. They sat on the ground, leaning back against a chest, tray between them.

“I wish we were back in our bed.” Nasir admitted, feeding Agron a spoonful of porridge. 

“I wish I were back in you.” Agron said, smirking lewdly to make Nasir laugh. 

He carefully reached down and picked up a grape, feeding it to Nasir who took his fingers into his mouth and sucked on them.

“We do not have time.” Agron warned, drawing his hand back but then he leant over to kiss Nasir’s pouting lips.

“You started it.” Nasir said, placing cheese on some bread and taking a bite before holding it out for Agron to take a bite. 

“And I plan to finish it, but it shall have to wait.” Agron said, clumsily feeding Nasir another grape.

They lapsed into silence, Nasir doing most of the work of feeding the two of them. Agron felt as if they were more connected after this morning, back in sync in a way they had not been. It lifted Agron’s heart and made his burdens easier to bear. 

They made quick work of their meal, knowing they had their different tasks to tend to in advance of leaving. They shared a small kiss before they parted ways and Agron watched Nasir until he turned the corner, marvelling that this man was his, that the gods, his people’s or the cursed Roman’s Agron did not care, saw fit to return him to Nasir’s arms. 

The morning kept them busy, Agron spent most of it with Salvius and Dardanos, planning the positioning of their forces, setting sentry schedules, discussing how the two would help Laeta lead until Nasir and Agron returned. They did not speak of what would happen should Agron and Nasir not return.

Mid-morning brought the return of Tascilla and Vezina, both caked in dust and exhausted. Laeta fetched Agron and Salvius and brought them to the atrium where the two women were washing their dusty limbs in the pool. Nasir was already there, exchanging quiet words with the scouts. Whereas the space would normally be buzzing with activity, everyone was about their chores, using the courtyard on the other end of the villa as a staging ground for their carts. 

“I can spare but a moment.” Laeta said when they were all together. “Atporix and his lot have not been fulfilling their duties so I must return to the packing of the carts.”

“Something will have to be done about them.” Salvius growled. 

“It shall be dealt with.” Agron agreed. “But not now.”

“We have found site for us to embark from.” Tascilla said eagerly, splashing them all when she upended an amphorae over her head, uncaring about soaking her clothes with the heat of the day. 

Laeta frowned at the drops that wet the hem of her dress and edged away from the pool lest Tascilla do it again. Despite being branded slave and travelling with Spartacus, she still retained some of her ways from when she was yet a domina. 

“We think.” Vezina moderated. “Your description of the right place was broad.”

“It will have to do.” Nasir said.

“Will we have difficulty with the carts?” Laeta asked. 

“There is sand.” Vezina said. “But such is the nature of the coast in these parts.”

“It will have to do.” Nasir said again.

“When will you arrive with the ship?” Salvius asked. “If it is sand there will be no cover while we wait.”

“We will leave with the main party, escort you east a ways before we break south for the trail Cato and Septimus uncovered.” Agron explained. “We should arrive in Sipontum just after nightfall. If everything goes smoothly we will take the ship near the end of secunda vigilia.”

“That raises the question of which of the two of you will accompany the main force and which will accompany us.” Nasir asked Tascilla and Vezina.

“I had not thought of that.” Vezina said.

“I will go with you.” Tascilla said determinedly. 

Agron and Nasir exchanged a look. Of the two of them Tascilla had been the stronger warrior but her shield arm had been damaged. It was functional but it would not wield sword nor shield again. 

Vezina must have been thinking the same thing for she said, “I think not, young one; age before beauty, I will go.”

Tascilla made to argue but Agron cut her off, “I agree, Tascilla you will go with Laeta and guide her, Vezina will accompany us.”

“Anything else?” Nasir asked the group and was met by head shakes. “Dismissed.”

After the others had dispersed, Agron sighed.

“This is a mad plan.” He said.

Nasir gave a laugh, “Then, if experience teaches us anything, it is destined to succeed.”

“How fares your preparations?” Agorn asked. “It is time we meet with Salvius and those who are to accompany us on the raid.”

“I have something for you,” Nasir replied. “Come with me.”

Nasir led them to the room they were using as an armoury. An underwhelming sight, it was bits and pieces salvaged from engagements with the Roman patrols that initially pursued them. But on the table in the middle of the room was what Nasir had been working on all morning.

“It is roughly made,” Nasir said as Agron ran his hands over the surface of the shield. “I lacked tools and expertise but it should hold.”

Agron looked over the straps and connections that were holding the hybrid weapon together and they looked stable enough. Agron slipped his right arm through the loosened straps and Nasir started tightening and securing the straps. It actually felt more secure than the first version and the sword blade was longer. After giving him space to run through some basic forms, Nasir unbuckled him, they would strap it on when it was time to leave. 

“I also have this.” Nasir said, pulling a full length arm guard off a hook on the wall.

Agron looked at it curiously as Nasir replaced his vambrace and pulled the patchwork guard onto his left arm.

“To protect you further.” Nasir said, looking pointedly at the scars on Agron’s left side from injuries he sustained in the last battle. 

Agron flexed his arm, moving it up and down to check the range of motion. It was well-made but Agron would not be using it to block more than glancing blows. The overwhelming feeling of loving Nasir so much that it choked him washed over him.

“Gratitude.” He said fervently, cupping Nasir’s face and gazing down at him with love. 

“I must do all I can to protect the one who holds my heart.” Nasir said, standing up on his toes to kiss Agron.

Agron returned the kiss, pouring his gratitude into it. 

“We must go.” Nasir said, regretfully breaking away.

“Then by all means, lead the way,” Agron said, gesturing with a flourish for Nasir to precede him out of the armoury. “Onward to madness.” 

Nasir’s laugh echoed down the hallway as Agron followed him back through the villa to the courtyard. They assembled their small raiding party in the garden to review strategy, establish teams and set out contingency plans. Salvius had located a former slave with sailing experience, he and Vezina stood to the side, armed but only to engage the enemy as a last resort. The rest of the group was made up of ten sword wielding rebels, all experienced and stouthearted. They would move in three groups, Agron would lead the first group with Cato to guide them. Nasir would lead the second group and a quiet but reliable woman named Zia would bring up the rear. They finished strategizing and Agron dismissed them to eat their midday meal.

“We should eat as well.” Nasir said when Agron did not immediately follow the others back into the villa.

Agron was looking over the organized chaos of the courtyard, some rebels eating, others still finishing their tasks. The carts were fewer than they came with, they were lower on supplies but they also had fewer wounded. There were five carts heaped with supplies and two carts prepared for the wounded who could not walk with one set further apart from the others that would carry those with the fever.

“Do you think we are prepared?” Agron asked Nasir.

Nasir looked over the scene and thought about it for a moment.

“As I said, it will have to do.” He replied.

Agron did not know if he appreciated the honesty or not. 

They headed to the kitchen, ready to have their own midday meal. The mood of the rebels was somber and there was not much conversation as people filtered in and out of the kitchen, sharing bowls so everyone could eat. Agron and Nasir retired to their room for the last time to eat in private, though they were similarly quiet, each lost in their own thoughts and preparations. 

Agron was nervous in a way he never was before. This was the first time he would be leading an attack on the Romans with a plan devised without Spartacus. When they fled the last battle there had been skirmishes with Roman patrols but Agron’s actions had been reactive in those cases. His confidence was shaken in himself, in his abilities. His physical disability impacted that of course but his captivity perhaps more so. The individual lives under his care also weighed more heavily now that his brothers were not there to share the burden.

When they were done eating, Nasir led them back to the armoury where he strapped Agron once more into his shield, it was time to leave. They returned to the courtyard where their disparate group of men and women was assembled. Laeta, Salvius and Decima were standing to the side talking quietly and Agron and Nasir joined them. 

“Are we prepared to leave?” Agron asked the group.

“Wounded are loaded and those with the fever will be loaded once the main caravan leaves.” Decima reported.

“Supply carts are ready as well.” Laeta said.

“Sentries?” Agron asked Salvius.

“We will need all that can hold a sword without stabbing themselves to keep a perimeter around the caravan.” Salvius said. “It will be a long night but we will rest them on the ship, others will take the first shift rowing.”

“And your preparations?” Laeta asked, eyeing Agron’s shield. 

Agron looked over to where his chosen fighters were assembled, each armed as best they could from their meagre armoury. 

“It will have to do.” Nasir said with a smile and Agron gave a bark of laughter. 

Laeta looked at them like they had gone mad. 

“Let us waste no more time.” Salvius said, looking up at the position of the sun. 

“Tascilla!” Agron called.

The young Celt made her way through the crowd to their small command group. 

“Time to go.” Agron said. “Go with Laeta and start getting the caravan moving, you will lead us.”

Tascilla looked excited and clapped her fist to her chest in salute before she followed Laeta to the front of the column. Rebels, sensing the imminent departure, started shouldering burdens and those who were to pull the carts first were assuming their positions. The movement of bodies made the group that remained sitting more conspicuous. 

Agron sighed, of course it was Atporix and his sheep. Nasir followed him over to where the old man sat on the steps leading to the veranda. 

“Atporix.” Agron said gruffly. “It is time to depart.”

“I think not.” Atporix said.

“Get up.” Agron said to the people arrayed behind Atporix but no one moved.

“What is this? Revolt?” Nasir asked angrily. 

“We shall not be doing as you say any longer.” Atporix said, crossing his arms. “We will be staying here.”

“What?” Agron said out of pure disbelief. 

“Here?” Nasir said at the same time.

“We will not scurry around taking orders any longer.” Atporix said. “We will rest here and gather our strength instead of foolhardily running around the empire on the whim of Spartacus’s glorified guard dog and the boy that warms his bed.”

Agron’s fist and teeth clenched, his pain ignored in his rising anger at the slight to Nasir. 

Nasir put a hand on his chest to hold him back and said, “You will die here, what will you do if the Romans come? What will you eat?”

All of a sudden understanding hit Agron and he growled, “The supplies.”

Nasir looked at him, confused, for a moment before the same knowledge bloomed in his eyes and his head whipped back to Atporix. Atporix looked terrified underneath his bluster now that he had been found out. 

“We will take care of ourselves.” He said haughtily, putting on a brave face for his group behind him.

“With our stores!” Agron spat, Nasir’s arm the only thing restraining him.

“What is going on over here?” Salvius appeared at Agron’s other side, putting a hand on his shoulder to help Nasir hold him back.

“At last we have our rats.” Agron said angrily. “They have stolen our stores and they say they will stay here.”

“Here?” Salvius scoffed in disbelief. 

“You said anyone who wished to leave would have a ration of stores and would be free to leave.” Atporix said. “We choose to leave earlier.”

“You will die here.” Agron said flatly then he looked at the group behind Atporix. “You will all die here.”

Some of those whose eyes he met looked increasingly uncertain but others resolute. 

“You fools!” Salvius said, shaking his head.

Agron looked around the courtyard, the last cart of wounded was just leaving the gate and the fevered were beginning to be loaded onto their cart. 

“We will not delay for your idiocy.” Agron warned.

“We do not ask you to.” Atporix shot back. 

Agron made a disgusted noise and turned away.

Nasir hurried after him and said, “We cannot leave them!”

“We cannot force them to come.” Agron replied, sighing. 

“They will die.” Nasir said.

“They will.” Agron agreed.

“There is nothing for us to do.” Salvius said, joining them. 

Nasir looked pained, he had benefited from a second chance and needed to offer the same to others. 

“He is correct, we should catch up with the caravan and Laeta.” Agron said, ushering Nasir towards the gate. 

Nasir looked back at Atporix and the other rebels they were leaving behind. They were returning inside the villa; none seemed to have any second thoughts about their decisions, at least none looked back.

Agron let Salvius oversee the last of the ill being loaded and led Nasir at a quick pace up the column of rebels to link up with Laeta and their raiding party at the head of the caravan. 

“All well?” Laeta asked as the two of them fell into step beside her.

“Atporix has convinced a clutch of fools to stay behind.” Agron told her grimly.

“Stay behind?” She echoed, confused.

“They were behind the theft of our stores.” Nasir said. “They believe that they can stay the season and have a stronghold to take them through the winter.”

Laeta gasped and said, “They are going to be killed.”

Agron had nothing to say to that. 

“How many?” Laeta asked. “How many are left behind?”

“We did not stop to count but more than expected, perhaps as many as fifty.” Nasir answered. 

“Fifty.” Laeta echoed disbelievingly. 

Agron nodded grimly, the shock was dissipating and it was now sinking in that he had just left fifty people to die. He could not manage to help five people pass on for the good of the group but Atporix had forced him to leave many that number of healthy people behind. He had plenty of time to dwell on this fact as they pushed eastward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments make me happy :)


	8. Chapter 8

“Cato.” Agron called and the man appeared at his side. “We must be nearing the point we should strike south.”

Cato looked around and said, “Path splits ahead, perhaps now would be a good time.”

Agron nodded in agreement, “Nasir, gather everyone, I will inform Laeta.”

Cato followed Nasir as Agron hunted through the column for Laeta. He found her at the second cart, helping re-balance the load that had shifted and was now uneven. 

“It is time.” Agron said, wanting to be able to reach out and pull the large chest over for her. 

“You depart?” She asked, panting a little as she and another rebel pushed on the chest from the opposite side of the cart. 

“Yes.” He replied, “Though I would break words in advance of departure.”

Laeta gave one last shove to secure the chest in its new position before coming around the cart to join Agron who had separated from the column a ways. 

“What do you require of me?” She asked as they walked slowly along, matching the pace of the carts. 

“We will meet you soon after the moon has risen fully,” He said. “But if we do not return by sunrise-”

“We shall wait longer.” Laeta cut him off.

“You and Salvius will need to make choice on what to do.” Agron insisted. “I would strike south in smaller groups for Sicily but you will have to judge for yourselves if the northern way is more promising.”

Laeta looked at him seriously, “If you do not return, it will not matter which way we travel, we will never survive.”

“No!” Agron said sharply. “You will, as long as there is there is one freeman with breath the revolution will continue. You must do your best to ensure that there are some that will live out their days far from Roman yoke.”

Despite his reassurances, she was likely correct. Agron would be taking half their warriors and half their command structure. If Salvius could persuade Laeta to allow small groups to break off and seek their own ways south or north then some might survive but in a group, laden down with wounded and ill, they would not make it out of Italia. 

“It will not matter,” Laeta said. “We will wait and you will return.”

They exchanged smiles and rejoined Nasir and the others. Tascilla was getting last minute instruction from Vezina, Salvius and Dardanos were inspecting weaponry and Nasir was conferring with Cato. 

“Time to go.” Agron said as he fell into step beside Nasir. 

“We will see you tomorrow morning.” Nasir assured Laeta.

“Cato, lead the way.” Agron called and their group split off the main column, following Cato in loose formation. 

They cut southeast, heading towards the coast where Cato said the fishing shanties were located. Xavi, the moorish fisherman who accompanied them, assured them that they were not yet in the right season for this coast and the huts would be empty. Fortunate in one sense, but that also meant the seas would be rough crossing. It took until just past sundown for them to reach the fishing huts where they decided to rest for a while, having pushed themselves hard during the day. 

The group was mostly sombre, the boisterousness and bravado that came before the missions they carried out under Spartacus were gone; in their place was wariness. The desire to survive had grown greater than the desire to fell Romans and win glory. Agron’s dark thoughts told him it was also a lack of confidence in his leadership but he could not afford to listen to them right now so he suppressed them harshly. 

Cato, especially, was jittery. If he had not been required to show the way, Agron was not sure he would have been included on this raid. He was eager enough but he was a blunt instrument, lacking the fine honing that was required to be a master of the arena. Their other scout, Vezina, on the other hand was calm. She was squatting next to Zia, heads bent together in quiet conversation. She was light of foot and had an unshakable nerve which made her an ideal scout, but she was not a warrior. Her slight size put her at a severe disadvantage that she did not have the skill to overcome. 

Agron and Nasir were leaning on an overturned boat, put up on risers for repairs. Nasir appeared lost in his own thoughts, gazing out over the water. In quiet moments like this Agron could not help but be struck by Nasir’s beauty. His hair was pulled back from his face and, while Agron loved it loose and framing his face, he could not complain about having a clearer view of Nasir’s dark eyes and gorgeous profile. 

“What causes you to stare as if moth transfixed by flame?” Nasir asked, eyebrow raised, amused. 

“My eyes are drawn by the radiance of your beauty.” Agron replied frankly. 

Nasir smiled widely and gave Agron a light punch on the arm, “Turn attentions to task at hand.”

Agron looked up at the sky, tracking the moon’s progress and that drew Nasir’s eyes upward as well.

“We should leave.” Agron said and Nasir nodded in agreement. “Cato, is path clear from here to the docks?”

Cato nodded, “It ends on the backside of a large storage building, the trees provide cover all the way there.”

“Fall back with Zia,” Agron instructed. “Petipor, you will join me and Thibaud.”

“Everyone know their role?” Nasir was greeted by nods all around. “Let us move out.”

Agron and his two swordsmen led the way down the narrow, but well-worn, track that was, as Cato promised, well shielded by trees. Nasir and three others followed twenty yards behind and Zia and her group twenty yards behind that. They travelled in silence, covering ground swiftly and in no time at all they were gathered behind the storage building.

Agron signalled Nasir to go around the right side of the building to scout the positions of the dock guards. He took the left side and crept around the corner, he crouched in the shadow of the building and looked out. There were two guards he could see, they were standing together sharing an amphora and talking. Agron could not make out what they were saying but they were obviously bored. He returned to the group.

“Two on my side.” Agron whispered. “Drunk more than likely.”

“Just one I could see.” Nasir added. “Cato, did you not say there were five?”

“By my count.” Cato said.

“Less by night,” Agron said. “More needed in town to control the sailors, I would wager.”

“You said the ship was in the far berth?” Nasir asked Cato to confirm and he nodded. “Then I saw four lanterns lit aboard and one shadow moving around.”

“There may be more below deck.” Xavi, their sailor, cautioned, his deep voice making the warning ominous.

“Is everyone prepared?” Agron asked, looking around their loosely assembled circle. “Good. Xavi, Vezina, wait here and keep a look out.”

They both nodded and split to either side of the building, falling to task immediately.

“Zia, left; I will take right and Nasir, you will take the ship from the water, we will approach from the dock when we have dealt with the guards.” Agron instructed, they had been through all of this already but it made him feel better to say it out loud one more time.

They slipped away in their teams, Agron leading Thibaud and Petipor around the corner in a crouch. He paused to allow Nasir and his three rebels to rush across the open space of the dock to slip silently into the water. They would round the boat and climb up the anchor chain to take the sailors aboard by surprise. If it did not involve climbing, Agron would have led the group himself but as it was he would have to satisfy himself with joining Nasir as quickly as possible from the dock. 

Now that he was actually here he realized that he was going to have to rely on the other two to take the lead on this. He would not be able to grab the guard to keep him from calling out and cut his throat at the same time. His shield was a blunt instrument, not fit for this sort of fine work. Agron signalled Thibaud to precede him as they wove between stacks of crates and barrels, fish mongers’ stands and buildings, keeping to the shadows as they made their way closer to their target. 

They drew even with the guard and crouched in a narrow alley between two buildings. Agron signalled to Thibaud to take the lead and Petipor to follow to support. He was bitter that he could not perform the task himself but he would persevere. Just as Thibaud broke from the cover of shadows, a movement caught the corner of Agron’s eye. Before he could register what it was his body was already moving by instinct. He covered the five or six steps between him and the guard who had just appeared from behind the building – gods, they must have passed right by him – adjusting his clothes after relieving himself. 

The guard made an aborted noise as Agron drove the point of his blade through his mouth and down his throat but it was enough to catch the other guard’s attention. Agron heard the Roman call something out in question before a scuffle ensued and Thibaud, with a firm hand covering the guard’s mouth, slammed him onto his back on the dock and Petipor drove his sword into his neck. Agron quickly made his way over to the two other men.

“Hide the bodies.” He whispered, barely pausing as he took long, quick strides towards their target ship.

Agron had not heard any noise come from the ship which either meant Nasir had not yet made his move or that he and his men had been more successful at keeping their targets quiet. He crouched as he hurried up the gangplank onto the ship’s deck, not that it did much good, his large frame was clearly visible in the moonlight. He looked around the deck and saw no one though there were lit lanterns. Agron crept over to the prow of the ship where Nasir and the others would have come up and found the deck wet, they must already be aboard. Thibaud and Petipor joined him, soundlessly crossing the deck.

“Below?” Petipor asked in a whisper. 

Agron considered that, it would be tight quarters for fighting below and he had not heard any noises rise out of the hatch that was open.

“We wait.” Agron replied, eyes glued on the dark opening, willing his eyes to pierce the blackness.

Petipor and Thibaud both nodded before assuming overwatch positions, Thibaud near the gangplank so he could monitor the dock and Petipor on the opposite side of the hatch leading to below decks so he and Agron had both sides covered.

Agron heard movement coming from the dock and looked over to Thibaud who was tensed, peering over the gunwale. 

“Zia.” Thibaud whispered back to Agron as the woman herself and her team came rushing up the gangplank. 

She joined Agron by the hatch and the others set up a loose perimeter to keep watch on all sides of the boat. Agron was about to speak when Nasir’s head appeared out of the hatch. He climbed out and turned to grab the body being passed up to him. Petipor joined to help Nasir pull the dead sailor up and onto the deck, he was followed by four more of his like. 

“Petipor, stash them where you put the other ones.” Agron instructed. “Zia, gather Vezina and Xavi.”

The Thracian gathered the four others to help him and they hefted the bodies up over their shoulders and set off down the gangplank, Zia following close behind.

“Any problems?” Agron asked Nasir.

They were all standing straight up now, anyone from the dock would think they were just sailors. Thibaud and Cato were extinguishing the lanterns and the others were waiting for orders.

“None,” Nasir said. “They were all drunk in the galley.”

“Have you found the stores? How do they stand?” Agron was still on edge, they had timed their raid well but there was always the chance another guard would appear. 

“Not yet.” Nasir moved to Agron’s side and touched him on the arm soothingly. “Let us first get out of the harbour.”

Zia returned just ahead of Petipor and the others, Vezina and Xavi in her wake.

“Xavi, we await your instruction.” Agron told the small, dark sailor. 

Xavi nodded and began assigning tasks, the anchor was drawn up and ropes were being pulled and tied and there was a flurry of activity around Agron. He stood there, useless, as everyone else took up a job. All Agron could do is look out over the dock to sound the alarm if they were to be discovered. 

It took longer than Agron would have liked to finally get the ship away from the dock and out of the harbour, the whole time the hairs on the back of his neck were standing up, he had a bad feeling. But despite his misgivings they managed to get out into open water without raising alarm. The men they had killed would be discovered eventually though so they had no time to celebrate. 

Xavi proved to be a more than competent sailor, his instructions clear and he seemed to be everywhere as they struggled to get the ship to sail up the coast. Time was slipping away more quickly than Agron anticipated and he worried that they would still be loading supplies and rebels when sun broke. There was nothing for him to do but worry though, unable as he was to contribute to the activity around him. 

They crept along the coast, Vezina at the rudder guiding them to their meeting point. Agron decided to go below deck and inspect the stores himself, having no other purpose. He had some trouble navigating the ladder but managed to climb down without falling off. The only ships Agron had been on were the one that brought him to Neapolis to be sold and the Cilicians’ so it took a little exploring to find the door to the large cargo space. Inside the space was half full of bags and chests and large amphorae half the size of Agron; it would appear their luck was holding. Agron did a quick estimate of how long these supplies combined with the ones Laeta was bringing would last them and was satisfied they would make the three day sea journey and have enough for four days after. 

While below deck he also examined the living quarters. There was plenty of room when you accounted for the number needed to man the oars. Now that there was only five with the fever, Agron grimaced remembering why, the captain’s quarters would be able to accommodate them with little difficulty. Satisfied with his inspection, Agron climbed out of the hold and back onto deck. He headed to the back where Vezina was navigating.

“How do we fare?” He asked, the coastline looking the same to him as when we went below.

“We draw nearer.” Vezina replied.

“When will we arrive?” Agron looked up at the sky. “Daybreak looms.”

Vezina gave a shrug, “I will know when we are close.”

Agron suppressed his annoyance at that response and left her to find Nasir. He found him midship, looking up at Xavi who was in the rigging.

“We grow short on time.” Agron said by way of greeting.

He found himself more worried than he had ever been before when conducting an operation against the Romans. Had he lost his nerve? No, Agron answered himself firmly, he simply had more cares and burdens than he had before. Though he could not deny that his disability did have something to do with it as well, he was no longer confident in himself.

“We have hours yet.” Nasir replied soothingly.

“It will take as long to load supplies and bodies.” Agron said. 

“We have time.” Nasir repeated. “We are close, I am sure.”

Agron just frowned. 

“Xavi says the seas look calm.” Nasir said, changing the topic. “The crossing may be smoother than we expected.”

“Good, perhaps our luck will hold in the coming days as well.” Agron said. 

He was thinking of the smell of vomit that accompanied his transport to Neapolis; many of his kinsmen had not taken the tossing of the waves well and the ship’s hold soon grew fetid and disgusting. 

“Agron!” Vezina called from the stern.

Nasir and Agron joined her quickly.

“Now we are close.” She smirked at Agron.

“How long?” Agron asked, ignoring her smugness. 

“Who knows with this infernal boat.” She said. “But maybe an hour by foot.”

“Then we shall be there momentarily.” Xavi said, jumping down from the rigging and landing gracefully in front of them.

“He speaks the truth.” Nasir said pointing to a small figure on the beach in the distance. “Salvius, unless I miss my guess.”

The figure turned and headed back to the treeline and he was met halfway by what looked like Laeta and they conferred. Then there was a flurry of activity as carts and rebels began to emerge onto the sand. It was clear they were struggling with moving the carts through the sand, rebels pushed from the back while others pulled and it was obvious they were straining. 

The ship was soon upon the rebels and Agron had to applaud Vezina and Tascilla on their choice of location. Though the beach was sandy, there was a steep drop-off that allowed their shallow bottomed ship to sail close to the shore. The large, heavy gangplank was lowered and splashed into the shallow water. Agron and Nasir carefully descended, followed by the rest of their raiding party. 

“You are late.” Laeta joked. “Fortunate that we waited.”

“Sailing proved to be more difficult than first expected.” Agron said. “Without Xavi we would not have made it out of the harbour.”

“We can row from here.” Salvius said, the sand making his uneven gait all the more pronounced.

“We must start loading,” Agron said, checking the sky again. “Sunbreak draws nearer.”

Laeta nodded and began directing the unloading of the carts, it would be more efficient to load the supplies and drag the empty carts up the gangplank than to try to accomplish it loaded. 

“It appears as if there were no surprises taking the ship.” Salvius noted their full compliment of warriors had returned. 

“Simple enough,” Agron said. “Sipontum is small enough that their guards have gotten lazy for lack of excitement.”

“I shall assist in loading.” Nasir said. 

Salvius stayed where he was, his leg had set well after it had been shattered but it still left him with a limp and on this uneven sand he would not be any use.

“This old cripple is glad we will not be walking for a while.” He said, rubbing his tired thigh muscle.

In their flight east from the last battle Salvius often had to ride in a cart. If that fact shamed him, he did not let on and Agron wondered if he would be as accepting of his own disability after many years. He could not help but look down at his hands, Decima said that even if they healed enough to hold anything of substance, he would never get full use back. 

“You shall heal,” Salvius said gently. “As I did.”

Agron looked pointedly at where Salvius was still massaging his leg.

“I could be not walking at all,” Salvius said. “If sore muscle is all I have to bear, this is a price I gladly pay.”

Agron wondered what price he would pay to be able to hold a sword again. At the moment he could not imagine a cost too high and, save Nasir, could not picture something he would not give. 

“Men have a great capacity to adapt.” Salvius said. “One can overcome a great number of things.”

Agron was not sure why he had not discussed his hands with Salvius before. Of course the old Roman would understand as many others could not. Perhaps it was because he had forgotten the man’s limp, so little did it impact Salvius’s work. 

“You have much healing left to do.” Salvius said, looking down at Agron’s hands, skin still forming beneath his scabs. “Once that is complete, you will discover ways to compensate for lost abilities.”

“I have thoughts...” Agron trailed off. 

Was he really going to share the demons that plagued his waking thoughts and created terrible dreams with Salvius when he would not share them with Nasir?

“Yes,” Salvius said knowingly. “My mind bent to similar darkness when I was yet healing.”

Agron was surprised that Salvius understood without Agron saying.

“Those too fade with time. Much like the wounds of the flesh, the wounds of the mind take time to heal.” Salvius continued.

“I worry it will not be so for me.” Agron said, still wary of sharing too much. “Some nights it as if I am once again in the clutches of Caesar.”

“Does Nasir know of this?” Salvius asked.

“I do not wish to burden him.” Agron replied.

Salvius did not reply but Agron could feel he wanted to so instead he changed the subject.

“If this pace is kept we may be aboard by sunrise.” Agron said, watching the line of rebels passing their burdens off to those on the ship.

“Do you think they will send ships after us?” Salvius asked.

Agron thought about that for a moment.

“They will but they are unlikely to sail out into open waters so we should depart the coastline as soon as possible.” Agron though a moment more then added, “Unless, of course, they suspect we are Spartacus’s men, in which case they will hunt us to the ends of the Empire and beyond.”

“Let us pray Neptune carries us swiftly to Dalmatia then.” Salvius said grimly.

Agron made a non-committal noise, like Spartacus he no longer held with the gods, his own people’s or the Roman’s. Laeta joined them, her labour making her sweat in the warm night’s air.

“We are nearly ready for the carts.” Laeta said. “Are we sure we need to load them?”

Agron could see why she asked, even unburdened they were still unwieldy in the sand and getting them up the steep gangplank would be no easy feat, let alone lowered through the large cargo hatch in the centre of the ship.

“We will need them on the other side to carry the wounded as well as supplies.” Agron said. “We will not be landing anywhere we can procure them.”

Laeta frowned, “Mayhap just two for the wounded and sick. The supplies can be carried.”

“Not the large chests that are aboard. We will load them.” Agron said firmly.

Laeta nodded.

“We must divide up shifts to man the oars.” Agron said. “Twenty-four at a time.”

“Can we not sail for a while and rest? No one has slept.” Laeta asked.

“We must be away from the coast so we are not sighted when they send out ships to look for us.” Agron said. “The winds did not carry us swiftly enough here, we must row to help make up for it.”

“We can rest when we arrive in Dalmatia.” Nasir said, coming up behind Agron and joining them. “But first we must make it to Dalmatia.”

“I will be on first shift then.” Laeta said.

Nasir sighed, “Me as well. Salvius, pick the rest as you see fit.”

Agron grimaced, as with everything, he would be of no use on this trip, he could not pull the ropes to raise and lower the sail nor could he hold the oar to row.

“The cooks should prepare a meal for everyone before they fall to their beds.” Agron said.

“Yes, Sibyl and some of the others are already in the galley cooking.” Laeta replied. 

“That is the last one.” Salvius said, gesturing to the cart the rebels were struggling to roll up the gangplank. “We should board.”

They followed the last of the rebels aboard and set to their tasks. Laeta to check on Sibyl and the cooks before taking her turn rowing and Salvius to assign more to that task, leaving Nasir and Agron standing amidst the chaos on deck. Xavi was calling instructions to various rebels; Vezina was at the rudder again; the gangplank and anchor were still being raised; and those who would take their turn first rowing were filing down the hatch to the galley.

“We are so close.” Nasir said, wonder in his voice.

“You sound surprised,” Agron said, smiling wryly. “Where is the confidence of last night?”

Nasir laughed and said, “Let us eat and get you to bed.”

They both climbed down the ladder and squeezed their way past rebels who were organizing themselves into the crew bunks and finding places to wolf down a meal before serving a turn at the oars. Dardanos popped his head out of one of the rooms and waved at Nasir and Agron. They wedged themselves into the narrow space between the bunks.

“Quartermaster’s quarters.” Dardanos said, proud of his discovery.

“Yes.” Nasir agreed, confused.

“For the two of you.” Dardanos clarified. “Salvius told me you were going to take the first shift but you should rest, I will take your place.”

“No, no,” Nasir said. “You rest here with Agron, I will take my turn.”

“All those who were on the raid are taking rest.” Dardanos said. “You cannot do everything.”

Nasir looked like he might argue the point but Dardanos was already squeezing, with some difficulty, past Agron and Nasir and out the door.

Agron looked at Nasir and shrugged, “Eat or sleep?”

Nasir looked exhausted all of a sudden, “Sleep.”

Agron was still wearing his shield but Nasir swiftly unbuckled it and set it to the side. He also rid them both of their armour, leaving only soft cloth pants on both of them. Agron collapsed into one of the bunks, the adrenaline draining from his body. Nasir ignored the empty bunk in favour of climbing on top of Agron and making himself comfortable. Agron wrapped his arms around the smaller man and they both fell asleep.


End file.
